Sabotage
by StoryWeaver56
Summary: The Enterprise-D encounters a lone, beat-up Romulan shuttlecraft coming from the Neutral Zone. When they discover a human aboard the craft, they rescue her. But when things start to go wrong, is there more to this girl than they think?
1. Chapter 1

**_Chapter 1_**

_Captain's Log—Stardate 43796.2_

_After our unusual encounter with the "Tin Man" we have finished receiving maintenance at Starbase 152 and are returning to the Hayashi System to complete the exospheric charts of the planets in the system. We hope that our charts will be helpful in future planet colonization._

_But, before we reach the Hayashi System, we have been instructed to deliver medical supplies to a colony of Tehrazions, a species of humanoids who have recently settled on a planet currently known as AlphaX0643-E in a system near the Hayashi system. These people have only just joined the Federation, and the protection the Federation offers them has inspired the Tehrazions to colonize outside of their home world._

_As instructed, since the Hayashi System is so near to the Romulan-Federation border, we have stayed away from any temptations to explore any closer to the Neutral Zone, for fear of instigating an unmitigated response from the Romulans._

_~/~/~/~/~/~_

With a swoosh, the doors to Wesley Crusher's quarters slid open and he entered, heading for his desk. He had just been released for the day from his duties as an Acting Ensign—even through all this time the thought still gave him a thrill—and he had decided that the first thing he was going to do was study before he would find some dinner. Since the continuation of their mission was so close to the Romulan Neutral Zone, one of the researchers aboard the _Enterprise _had seen fit to introduce a new course on the Romulans for the students aboard. Today had been the first day of the course—_Introduction to Romulan Culture and Ethics _—and, despite the undoubtedly uncomfortable immersion in understanding a culture so corrupt, Wesley was one of the first to sign up. After all, his future could someday depend on the knowledge learned in that class. Even though the amount of material was sparse, one never knew what information could come in handy with all the mysterious action going on behind the curtain of the Neutral Zone.

Wesley sat at his desk and turned the computer screen toward him.

"Computer, activate data from 'Romulan Military Ethics and Outcomes' on drive A7-849."

The computer whirred for just a moment, and then, after a welcoming beep, blue sentences started to appear across the black screen along with diagrams and charts. While the usual teenage boy would at least have winced at the amount of reading emerging on the screen, a small smile tugged at the corners of Wesley's mouth as he realized that this class was going to give him the knowledge he craved.

Though, he had to admit, some classes were too tedious for smiling.

Fifteen minutes into the reading, Wesley's smooth brow started to furrow. He noticed that the reading was starting to stir emotions in him—emotions that he didn't usually have when studying. The injustice of such a system…he didn't understand why any military structure would be set up so that in order to gain some power one would have to wait for his or her superiors to die, or just kill them—and, according to these records, many had done so just to be one rung higher on the ladder of command. It seemed their culture was strongly influenced by loyalty to the Praetor and honor—honor that sometimes demanded pushing people off the rungs to success. Wesley Crusher did not agree with this way of living.

Wesley was so immersed in his reading that he almost didn't hear the door chime. He mumbled a "come in" and his mother, Dr. Beverly Crusher, entered his quarters.

"Hello, Wesley," she said to her son, whom she saw at his usual spot.

Wes looked over and smiled at his mother. "Hi, Mom." Even though Wesley was just fine with living on his own, he enjoyed the fact that his mom had come back to the ship from running Starfleet Medical for a year. He didn't like to admit it, but—while he hadn't minded Dr. Pulaski taking over as Chief Medical Officer aboard the _Enterprise_ last year—Wesley had missed his mom. He was glad she was back.

"Have you eaten yet?" Beverly decided to give the implied invitation a try, even though she knew that her teenage son would rather do anything than eat with his mom at Ten-Forward. Beverly knew that her son either felt too busy to eat (which she never approved of) or he ate with his friends. She was hoping that today he would set some time aside to catch up and spend some time with her.

Wesley turned to look at his mother. "I've got some studying to do, so I was planning on eating in about a half hour, but go ahead without me." He then turned back to looking at his computer screen.

"Okay," Beverly said, a bit disappointed, and started to turn away.

"But, Mom—" Wesley said before she could leave. "How about breakfast tomorrow, at 0700?"

Beverly beamed at the thought. "I'll mark my calendar!" Wesley smiled in return and looked back at his screen. Beverly Crusher noticed the telltale fascination on her son's face. Curiosity taking over her steps, she walked over to the desk and peered at what Wes was reading.

"Romulans?" she asked. "What's this for?"

"I have to study for the new class on Romulan culture and ethics," Wesley said, without looking up from the screen. "It's amazing what these people would do to get some recognition, Mom." Beverly noticed Wesley give a little shudder before he looked up at her with widened brown eyes. "They would do virtually anything to get some credit from the Praetor—that's their government head—and that includes killing or dishonoring their comrades and higher-ranking officials. No wonder they seem so ruthless all the time, Mom, they're trying to keep their lives!"

"Just be grateful the _Enterprise _isn't like that," Beverly said, putting a hand on her son's shoulder before walking back toward the door.

"Yeah. But I don't understand how an entire culture that spans planets could get anywhere with a system like that. I couldn't imagine going to work on the bridge everyday worrying if Data was going to attack Commander Riker just to be called Number One."

Beverly smiled at the thought. "Well, I don't think we need to worry about that anytime soon."

Wesley smiled, too. "Enjoy your dinner."

"I will," Beverly said before heading out into the corridor. But, before she left, she thought she'd give her intelligent son a little bit of parenting. "And don't get too engrossed in your studying to the point that you forget to eat. I don't want to see my son in sickbay anytime soon with an overworked immune system because he won't give it the nutrition it needs." She knew only too well about Wes's enthusiasm to learn new things.

"I know, Mom," Wesley said at the sight of her retreating form. When the doors slid shut he turned back to the computer screen and to his education of a culture's logic he couldn't even begin to comprehend.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Chapter 2_**

"I know that makes sense, Data, but it doesn't really work that way," Geordi La Forge said, once again trying his hardest to help his friend understand yet another function of the "human equation". "Try it again, but this time be a little more persuasive."

Data gave a quick nod, then turned around to face the bulkhead.

When he turned back around again to face Geordi, his face was completely transformed.

"I told you that I was busy! Leave and do not disrupt me again!" He paused in his uncharacteristic outburst, his luminescent yellow eyes darting quickly to one side as if remembering something. "You have dishonored yourself and—"

"No, Data, that last part doesn't quite work out."

Data's look of anger suddenly vanished, leaving a slightly confused expression on his usually impassive features.

"But I have heard Lieutenant Worf speak of dishonor with much persuasion in his tone," he pointed out.

Geordi sighed. "Worf's a Klingon. His reasons for being angry aren't always what humans would call a good reason. And I thought we were working on the 'human equation', right?"

Data nodded. "Quite right, Geordi. If I leave out the last sentence, would my display of anger be enough to get a 'passing grade'?"

Geordi smiled, remembering the jump that Data's cat gave when Data started his atypical rampage. "Well, you succeeded in scaring Spot away to the farther corners of the room. I'd say that's a start."

Data's head twitched slightly to the side in recollection. "I do recall Spot's reaction. Will this cause her to fear me?" Since he'd never had a real emotional reaction to anything, Data didn't know exactly how others might respond to one.

Geordi chuckled at his friend's complete naivety to something so common in a human's world. Ah, to be an android. If given the option, Geordi would switch lives for a day and enjoy the absence of emotion that Data experienced. That is, if being an android made him capable of enjoyment. "I don't know, Data, she did look a bit daunted," Geordi joked, lifting his eyebrows for expression.

Data, oblivious to Geordi's jest, started to look concerned. He opened his mouth to say something, but Geordi cut him off.

"I was just kidding, Data, she'll be fine." There was a part of him that thought maybe the android would be better able to tell when he was joking if Geordi didn't have the VISOR covering his eyes. But nothing could be done about it.

Geordi cleared the thoughts running through his head and looked back up at Data's unnaturally pale face, noticing through his VISOR the familiar electromagnetic aura that surrounded the android's form.

"Ah, yes," Data said. "You were attempting to be funny." And here Data opened his mouth slightly and gave his incredibly obvious fake laugh.

Geordi was about to tell his friend that his joke wasn't funny enough to warrant a laugh, much less one that sounded like a bunch of clean cut 'ha ha ha's strung together, but he decided not to bother his poor, perplexed android friend with any more confusing human complexities. At least Data was trying.

Right as Data was finishing his laugh—if that's what one could call it—his combadge bleeped. "Data to the bridge," it said in Riker's voice.

A moment after that, Geordi's combadge bleeped, requesting his presence on the bridge as well. "On my way, Commander," he said. As Geordi started to head for the doors that led out of Data's quarters, he noticed that Data hadn't yet responded to Riker's demand and was not moving.

"Data?" Geordi asked. "Let's go; we don't want to keep him waiting."

"Geordi, should I respond in my usual fashion or should I respond in the way we practiced?" Data asked, an innocent expression on his face.

Geordi almost gasped when comprehension hit. But then he just laughed and took his friend's arm.

"No, I don't think it would be a good idea to tell Commander Riker that you're busy and want to be left alone. But the heated response coming from Lieutenant-Commander Data would surely cause some talk among the crew!"


	3. Chapter 3

**_Chapter 3_**

Commander William T. Riker watched the shuttlecraft on the large viewscreen in front of him, trying to make sense of its appearance. Around him he heard the sounds of the crew shifting about, as well as the beeping and humming of the computers, all working toward the common goal of shedding some light on the situation. And Riker hoped he would get some information soon, because he didn't know whether finding a single damaged shuttlecraft with the Romulan Empire insignia on it limping out of the Romulan Neutral Zone was a threat or not.

Of course, as were the rules, anything coming out of the Neutral Zone with the Romulan Empire insignia on it without permission would cause any Federation vessel to report to Red Alert. Certainly, the last people Riker wanted to run into were the Romulans…_again_.

The _Enterprise-D_ had been on a mission charting the planetary atmospheres in the Hayashi System near the Neutral Zone for nearly one week now. Before they had been able to finish the mission, the whole incident with the late Tam Elbrun and the so-called "Tin Man" had taken them off track and gotten them whipped 3.8 billion kilometers away from Beta Stromgren, where they had been relocated for a more pressing mission before the whole supernova and Tin Man incident. Of course, there were Romulans involved, too. After all was said and done, and the _Enterprise _was repaired at Starbase 152 from all the action, Starfleet Command had given them orders to go back to the Hayashi System and finish their charts, but before that they were given medical supplies and told to deliver them to a colony of Tehrazions who were in need.

Riker was not too upset about making a beeline for the colony of Tehrazions. Making the exospheric charts had not been the most interesting and stimulating activity Riker had ever endeavored, especially in this part of the quadrant. So far they had only come upon scattered planets that could hardly be called M-class and moons that had been vacant wastelands for thousands of years. There weren't many exospheres to be seen in this system. While the information they had been gathering was always useful to know, it hadn't been a secret that Riker was hoping to find something more fascinating and useful to future colonies than the dead pieces of rock they had been stumbling on. So far, it had looked like if anyone were going to start a life there they would either need to erect a biosphere or perform a complete terraform of the chunks of rock floating around the system's sun. But, despite his frustrations, Riker knew it was clear they were not to go any closer to the Zone for fear of provoking the Romulans into thinking the Federation was planning an attack, even if it looked like more prosperous planets were settled in systems there.

Riker glanced over as doors to the front turbolift opened and Deanna Troi came out, her maroon jumpsuit clinging to her curves as she walked. He gave her a quick, small smile before looking back to the object of his concern in the center of the viewscreen. He could see her out of his peripheral walking over to her chair at the captain's left and sitting down. Her presence always made him feel a little better and more confident, even in the worst of situations, and the half of her that was Betazoid probably knew that.

Right as Deanna sat down, the aft turbolift opened and Data and Geordi came out. The crewmember who had manned the Ops console at the front of the bridge while Data was off duty swiftly got up and walked to the aft part of the bridge while Lieutenant-Commander Data took his seat. Lieutenant-Commander Geordi La Forge took his station in the back at Engineering. The whole process took about three seconds and was done daily without a word. While Riker wasn't really one to admire the sight of crewmen doing their jobs, he did appreciate the smooth workings of the people on the bridge and off. It was what saved lives in tight situations and what helped make tough decisions come to fruition in moments of high stress where every second counted.

But the one who held the crew together was Captain Jean-Luc Picard, the strong-willed commanding officer and good friend of Riker and anyone else who had had sufficient time to get to know the man. Before Riker could wonder how much longer it would take him to get there, the aft turbolift opened and Captain Picard stepped onto the bridge.

Riker turned his head and noticed the back-to-business look in the captain's eyes as he straightened his burgundy uniform shirt with a tug and asked for a briefing on the situation. As Data answered the question while simultaneously reading his console for more information on the matter, Riker joined the silent movement of the bridge and stepped aside, taking his rightful place at the captain's right.

"According to sensor readings, the shuttlecraft has taken severe damage to its structure and interior operations, enabling it to use only three-nineteenths of the impulse power it was designed to use," Data said, continuing his diagnostic of the situation at his Ops station.

Lieutenant Worf cut in before he could continue. "Captain, sensors show antiproton residue that suggests it was heavily fired upon by Romulan disruptors."

"That would explain the damage," Picard stated. "Any lifesigns?"

"There is a reading of one lifesign on the ship," Data continued. "It appears to be…human." Surprise was reflected on Data's face as he turned around to observe Captain Picard's expression. Picard took a step toward the screen.

"Lieutenant Worf, is there a distress signal being broadcast from the craft?"

"All frequencies are either blank or filled with static. But it does seem that the person might have attempted communications."

Captain Picard nodded. "Can you hail this person?" he asked.

"Aye, sir," the Klingonreplied. "But the signal is weak."

"On screen."

Everyone looked up eagerly from their consoles as a face appeared on the screen of a young human female, around Wesley Crusher's age. The frequency was undeniably weak—who knew what harm the communications devices had received from the damage inflicted on the craft? But, through the static a voice could be heard.

"…help!… me aboard your ves…Romulans fired…need medical atten…"

The screen went blank.

Worfwas left to state the obvious. "Hailing frequency failed."

"Try again, Lieutenant," Captain Picard said, glancing at Riker with a look of slight surprise from the broken message.

But as soon as the screen came on again, his face held no look of surprise, but rather the determination and confidence that his position required him to emanate.

The face appeared on the screen again, lips moving in rhythm with broken, unheard sentences, and, in a moment of clarity, the static disappeared. "…craft is unable to maintain life support for much longer…" and the connection broke again.

"It's gone again, sir," Worfsaid, fingers flying across his console behind Riker to find the signal again.

"Captain," Deanna Troi's accented voice broke through Riker's jumbled thoughts. "I can sense her fear and desperation. She genuinely doesn't know how much longer the shuttle can keep her alive."

With just one look at the captain, Riker knew what he was thinking. _But is she genuinely not a threat to the _Enterprise?

But a life was a life and Captain Picard couldn't kill heartlessly.

"We've waited long enough," the captain said. "Lieutenant Worf, drop shields."

"But sir—!" Worf protested, astonishment etched on his face.

"Lieutenant," Picard said firmly.

With an uneasy tilt of his head and a gritting of his teeth, the Klingon carried out his orders. "Aye, sir."

Captain Picard tapped his combadge. "Transporter Room Three, lock on to the life sign at the coordinates being sent to you—," Data got the message and started sending the coordinates, pale fingers moving quickly across his console, "—and beam her aboard."

"Aye, sir," was heard on the other end and, with another swift tap, communications were opened again. "Dr. Crusher to Transporter Room Three. Bring a medkit." Another "Aye, sir" was heard coming from the captain's combadge, this time in Dr. Crusher's voice—a voice that sounded like it had just been swallowing a bite of dinner, now to be the last bite of tonight's dinner.

Captain Picard turned to the rest of the bridge crew, taking small steps backward toward the aft turbolift while sending out commands. "Mr. Worf, focus a tractor beam on the craft after the lifesign is beamed aboard and bring it to the main shuttlebay for further analysis. La Forge, I want you to lead the examination. Ensign Harper, note the exact coordinates of the point where the craft came out of the Neutral Zone and continue along at Warp One. This is now a Yellow Alert." At the sound of Captain Picard's voice deeming the situation a Yellow Alert, the flashing red lights turned to a less-urgent amber color. "Number One, you have the bridge. Mr. Data, Counselor, come with me."

Riker's blue eyes followed the captain to the aft deck and then to the turbolift, giving Deanna a look along the way. He noticed that her features appeared slightly confused, like she couldn't quite understand just what she was sensing. But, when their eyes met and he gave her a questioning look, she just shook her head as if dismissing the confusion as a misunderstanding.

The captain, Betazoid, and android entered the turbolift, and, at the captain's command, began their way to the transporter room.


	4. Chapter 4

**_Chapter 4_**

"Transporting now, sir."

By the time they had gotten to the transporter room, the technician taking the place of the usual transporter chief O'Brien during his off-hourswas just ready to begin the beaming. Deanna Troi could feel the mix of disappointment and unease coming from Captain Picard at the slow response of the young transporter technician.

"Be quicker next time; we're dealing with life or death, here," he reprimanded.

"Yes, sir." Deanna tried to block out the uncomfortable blow to the transporter chief's self-esteem, but it was so strong she had to look away, embarrassed for the technician and uncomfortable with the fact that she had to share in the private feelings of the humans around her. It was so obvious to her that she almost didn't understand how the others in the room couldn't feel just what she and the technician were feeling.

Heck, Data didn't even really know what an emotion was and was most likely oblivious to everything that was going on in the small wait before the beaming commenced.

But she pushed her thoughts aside and focused on the human who would be appearing on the platform soon, if the technician could just put his own emotions aside and focus on the task at hand.

The usual humming and metallic sound of the transporter began, and, in the next moment, the mass of shimmering molecules on the platform started to form the shadow of a teenage girl. After another moment, the form solidified. The girl looked over at the people surrounding her, holding her left arm with an expression—and a feeling—of pain—

Before she collapsed off the platform.

Luckily, Data's lightning-fast reflexes enabled him to jump forward just in time to catch the girl in his android-strong grip before she hit the plating.

Dr. Crusher quickly pulled her medical tricorder from her coat pocket and flipped it open. The small gray device made clicking sounds as the top part opened, giving her a view of the data soon to fill the screen. With expert precision built from practice, she grabbed the scanner between her thumb and forefinger and waved it gently around the girl in Data's arms. While it was obvious there was a need to get her to sickbay, Dr. Crusher wanted to know if there was anything immediate that needed to be fixed. "We need to get her to sickbay," she said, after quickly looking over the contents on the screen. She moved toward the door, Data close behind. Without an anti-grav stretcher in the immediate vicinity, Data saw fit to carry the girl to sickbay.

Not knowing what else to do, Picard and Troi followed them down the corridors to the medical center of the _Enterprise_.

When they arrived, Data gently set the teen down on a diagnostic bed and stepped back for Dr. Crusher to do her job.

And for Deanna to get her first look at the girl.

She had dark, tousled hair and smudged skin from being fired at in the shuttlecraft. There were red marks along her face and hands where she had been cut, but, ironically, there was a peaceful look on her face like she had just fallen asleep under a tree in the holodeck on a sunny, beautifully programmed day.

Or maybe it was just her young, innocent face that made Deanna Troi see her in that light.

Dr. Crusher held her tricorder in one hand and her medical scanner in the other, scanning the girl's body for a more detailed reading on her physical state and comparing that to the information coming up on the screen next to the biobed.

"Her left arm's broken and, as you can see, she has many lacerations that need attention. It doesn't look like she was deprived of oxygen or lost enough blood to make her lose consciousness, so she probably fainted from shock or fatigue."

"And you're sure she's human?" Picard asked, wary.

"Everything matches up," Beverly said. "Her blood pressure, her blood content—which is iron based, as you can see—her body temperature…everything."

Picard rubbed his chin. " But that doesn't mean she wasn't raised a Romulan. She did come out of the Neutral Zone in a Romulan shuttlecraft."

"And it's beyond my medical expertise to judge a person's mental state when I practice with people's physical states."

With this, everyone turned to Deanna.

"Counselor, what do you sense?" Picard asked her.

"Well, to be honest, it's too hazy right now. Since she's unconscious, she's not feeling many emotions," she answered, a little unhappy that she couldn't help any more than that.

Picard turned back to Dr. Crusher. "When can we wake her?" he asked, fully knowing what Beverly would tell him. But it was worth a try, anyway.

"I don't want to wake her now, Captain; she's in a fragile state. It would be best if she were allowed to get the rest she needs to wake up naturally. Besides, I need to work on her arm and her cuts before anything else." Deanna could sense Beverly's silent plea, and Picard seemed to sense it, too.

"You're right, Doctor. We can spare some time. But I'm giving her twelve hours for her to recover enough to talk. I don't like being in the dark about situations involving the Romulans."

"Yes, sir." Dr. Crusher said, and got to work monitoring the adolescent's vital signs and preparing to heal her broken arm.

But, right as Dr. Crusher turned toward her, the girl's eyes snapped open and her uninjured hand grabbed Dr. Crusher's. Dr. Crusher jumped at the sudden movement, her bright red hair and blue medical coat swishing with her abrupt start.

Captain Picard recovered faster than anyone, besides Data, who didn't have a limbic system to make him capable of feeling surprised.

"Who are you?" Picard asked, summing up everyone's thoughts in those three words.

Dr. Crusher quickly regained her composure and started scanning her.

In the moment it took for the girl to become aware of her surroundings to answer Picard's question, she looked around the room at the people watching her. When she looked toward Troi, Deanna couldn't help but notice the color of her eyes: a bright blue—almost startling compared to her shade of hair and the dark smudges on her skin.

The girl cleared her throat before speaking, but the act didn't seem to help; Deanna noticed her voice was raspy as she spoke.

"Arin Greene, sir." She tried to sit up, wincing, but both Data, who was standing on the other side of the bed, and Dr. Crusher reached out to gently push her down, Data's pale hand glowing on the teen's arm in contrast to her darkly smudged form.

"Stay still," Dr. Crusher said to her, and grabbed a prepared hypospray placed nearby, just for moments like these. "This will numb the pain," she told her, while setting the release amount before gently pressing the device to the girl's neck. It gave a little hiss and Arin relaxed, already starting to feel the effects of the spray.

At this, Picard felt it safe to continue his questioning.

"Why were you coming out of the Romulan Neutral Zone in a Romulan shuttlecraft? Surely you're not Romulan?"

"Captain, this is hardly the time for an interrogation," Beverly Crusher interjected, preparing a skeletal regenerator beside the bed that would heal Arin's arm by speeding the cells and sending calcium to the fractured area, repairing her arm in under half the time it would take for it to heal on its own.

"It's all right," Arin said. "I'm feeling better, anyway." To prove this, she slowly lifted herself up, supporting herself with her uninjured arm, a look of determination on her face. Data, sensitive to human weaknesses, started to step toward the girl as if to help her, but then stopped himself at the expression of resolve on Arin's face. Ever the teenager, Troi could feel Arin's will not to look as weak as she felt.

Dr. Crusher could feel it too, Deanna knew, and the doctor's feelings of frustration at this whole situation were snuffed out with her understanding of adolescents. After all, she had one of her own.

When Arin was sitting up, Dr. Crusher began the healing process on her broken arm. After a moment of orienting herself, Arin began to answer Picard's question with a question of her own.

"Do I look Romulan?" she asked, looking straight into the captain's eyes.

"Just because you don't look Romulan doesn't mean you aren't," Picard said, looking right back into Arin's eyes.

Arin broke the eye contact when she felt a slight tickling in her arm followed by an almost unbearable itching sensation. She looked up at Dr. Crusher, a question in her eyes. "It's good if you're feeling that; it means you're on the mend." Dr. Crusher smiled one of her warm smiles at Arin, trying to employ some bedside manner on the stricken young girl.

Arin gave a small and weary smile back, then looked back at the captain. "No, I'm not Romulan," Arin said, finally answering Picard's question. "And I came out of the Romulan Neutral Zone in a Romulan shuttlecraft because it was my only way of escaping one of their ships." Arin closed her eyes, and Troi felt a surge of emotions at the memories. "I was being held captive and needed to get away."

So far, Deanna had sensed truth in her words, but, as she had felt on the bridge, there was an underlying emotion that seemed to be either repressed or blocked with uncanny mental discipline. Her brow furrowed as she tried to reach deeper and tap into the mysterious emotion.

"They quickly noticed that I was gone and in the shuttlecraft just dispatched from their shuttlebay. They started firing on me," Arin stated. Deanna noticed how she looked down, her eyes darting to the sides as she spoke as if in remembrance of the event. "I honestly don't know how I got away without either being destroyed or recaptured. But I did." Arin looked back up at her audience. Troi could sense her exhaustion as she spoke those last words.

"When were you initially captured by the Romulans?" Picard asked, his voice softening at the strain in the girl's eyes.

"Five years ago, when I was twelve," Arin said. "I was on a transport sending me to the Earth Outpost in Sector Z-6 to speak with researchers and experience their lab setting for an honors field trip in exobiology. On the way, the navigation system got damaged from an anomaly we had passed, and the next thing I knew the Romulans were surrounding us. For all we knew the navigation systems had been leading us straight into the Neutral Zone. I know five years might sound like a while ago, but the whole time I just wanted to get back to my family." Arin looked down again. "The Romulans told me my parents had both been killed while they were in a landing party on an unknown planet. They were both in Starfleet, you see."

Beverly looked up at Picard, empathy in her eyes at the girl's sorrow. Her own husband, Jack Crusher, had died in a landing party so many years ago. Picard had been the commanding officer of the party.

Data jumped in. "How did the Romulans obtain this information?" he asked.

"I don't know, but they have their ways. I didn't believe them, though. I think the Romulans killed my parents. I'm sure the story was just a ploy to make me lose hope and stop resisting them."

Right then, Deanna could sense a flash of pain sear through Arin. While Troi couldn't exactly feel her physical pain coming from the wounds on her body, she could feel the psychological pain it gave her.

In response to this stinging emotion, Arin squeezed her eyes shut and tightened her grip on the bed.

"Where's it coming from?" Dr. Crusher asked, quickly recognizing the source of Arin's agony.

"It's just my head," she said, and with that, Dr. Crusher set to helping her to lie back down onto the diagnostic bed, Data helping out on the other side.

"She needs to rest," Beverly said. "I would like to sedate her now to give her the sleep she needs. I would also like to start repairing her lacerations while she's resting." She looked up at the captain as if it were his decision whether she did or not, even though, being Chief Medical Officer, she had complete control over any command decisions involving individuals in need of medical assistance. Deanna could sense Dr. Crusher's will to have Captain Picard himself admit to the medical attention Arin Greene needed.

"I understand," Picard answered.

And with that, Dr. Crusher adjusted the settings on a hypospray and pressed it into Arin's jugular, quickly sending the chemical reaction to her brain, enabling her to get the rest she needed.

Picard looked over at the other officers around the diagnostic bed when it was clear the girl was resting. "In the meantime, I'll be in my ready room trying to find any information Starfleet might have and informing them of the situation. Mr. Data, check the computer for any records containing the name she gave us and search for information on her family. I want to know if her family really is dead or not, and if five years ago there was indeed a twelve-year-old named Arin Greene who was captured by the Romulans. Counselor, I would like a full report on what exactly you felt coming from this Arin Greene. Meet me in my ready room in twenty minutes Standard time."

"Yes, Captain," she said, and they all headed out of sickbay and in their separate directions.


	5. Chapter 5

**_Chapter 5_**

Captain Picard entered the turbolift to the bridge, thoughts about the day's events flying through his mind a mile a minute. Everything the girl had said sounded truthful, but something in him could not trust her. Her story had so far been backed up by evidence, but there was something missing. He tried to remind himself that he was jumping to conclusions, but he couldn't seem to shake this feeling. So, he tried reviewing the information in his head once again.

She might have come out of the Romulan Neutral Zone, but she wasn't physically Romulan—one look at her could prove that as well as the medical data Dr. Crusher had given him. She had definitely been attacked while she was in the shuttlecraft—one look at her and the shuttlecraft's state could also prove that, and who else would attack her on the Romulan side of the Neutral Zone than the Romulans? Why would the Romulans attack someone who was on their side? All that was left was to make sure the story she gave backed up the records and there would be no doubt that what she said was true.

At least, there would be no physical doubt. But the doubt in his thoughts stayed like a shadow that he couldn't push away.

The turbolift doors swooshed open to reveal the activity of the bridge, the viewscreen reflecting the darkness of space with the usual speckling of bright stars. Before Picard went to his ready room, he walked into the trough of the bridge and to the command chair. Riker, seeing him approach, stood, making way for the captain to take the chair. But, when Picard didn't sit, Riker noticed the thoughtful expression on the captain's face, and a questioning look transformed his own face.

At the curious expression on Riker's visage, Picard gestured for him to follow him to his ready room—giving Worf the bridge—where he quickly briefed Riker on what had just happened. "Number One, what do you think of this situation?" Picard asked, straightforward.

Commander Riker, hands behind his back, shifted and turned his light blue eyes to look at Picard. "I think it's still too early in the game," he said.

"True, but you don't you have some…gut feeling about this? Or am I becoming paranoid in my old age?"

Riker smiled at that. "If you're getting paranoid in your old age, then I must be getting old, too. Something doesn't feel right to me, either, but, you're right, I don't want to jump to conclusions."

"The report from Counselor Troi should help to clear up these…_feelings_. I don't like ever basing my decisions off of intuition—it can sometimes cloud proper judgment—but I need some answers. You don't travel space for as long as I have without learning to trust your instincts. Part of me wants to believe her, but part of me won't accept her story."

"Then let's hope Data can find something that can shed some light on this situation."

Picard nodded curtly. "The bridge is yours again, Will," he said, and turned toward his replicator where he called up an Earl Grey and sat down at his desk. He took a sip of the comforting drink, set it on the table, and gave a tug at the hem of his uniform tunic, straightening it and preparing himself to look presentable. He had noticed that the act also lifted his chin and gave him an air and mental set of self-assurance, something that he needed to keep his thoughts in order and his crew confident enough to trust his judgment, which he thought was essential in a captain and many times helped get the ship out of tricky situations.

He was at first hesitant to open a frequency to Starfleet Command, knowing the message could be intercepted by the Romulans. But, it was just a risk he was willing to take. Of course, he knew Worf would take all the precautions—codes, encrypted, a single, tight beam through subspace of his message to Command that would be difficult for the Romulans to intercept. He knew Worf would do all in his power to get the message to Command without even the most advanced Romulan cryptologists being able to read the message, even though the information being relayed from Picard to Starfleet wasn't nearly as important as all that work. Picard knew Worf had a personal vendetta against the Romulans that was being reined in only by the Starfleet training that ensured all Starfleet officers on the job were in top physical, mental, and emotional states.

"Lieutenant Worf, please open a channel to Starfleet," Picard asked through the ship's communications network.

"Channel open," Worf responded after a moment.

Picard made his greetings and then began to inform them that a human female named Arin Greene had flown out of the Romulan Neutral Zone in a damaged shuttlecraft, claiming that she had been captured by the Romulans five years ago and had only just managed to escape with her life. He stated that he was still receiving information on the matter and that he would keep them posted on further developments.

When the link was closed, Counselor Troi had arrived to report her understanding of the situation.

"She felt all the normal emotions of a shocked and frightened girl," Deanna said, standing before him. "I felt her weariness, but also a sense of pride, like she had completed something she didn't think she was capable of completing."

Picard nodded and leaned back in his chair. He took another sip of his Earl Grey, then looked at the drink in his hand, lost in thought. "Nothing unusual?"

Deanna shook her head, her dark curls bouncing. "No, Captain," she said, and looked as if she expected to be dismissed soon. "But…no, I'm just reading too far into this..."

Picard looked up at her words, and a flare of curiosity flashed through him. Deanna seemed to sense this, too, which made her look back up at him from mindlessly inspecting her manicured fingernails.

"Deanna, what is it? What did you feel?" He knew Deanna Troi well enough to trust her Betazoid instincts.

She shook her head. "Captain, I don't want to condemn anyone with their own objective emotions. She can't help what she felt in sickbay."

"Yes, but her emotions can help us have a better understanding of this. You can probably tell that something is making me feel uneasy about this whole ordeal."

"I try to keep my empathy behind a mental wall. I know that most people don't like being probed, so I respect their privacy the best I can."

"Of course, Counselor." He looked at her, a softening entering his eyes at her continuous care for others, expecting that she had something more to say.

She did. "Captain…it seemed that she was repressing something. What, I can't tell. Now, it could just be the horror of the past five years. She said she thought her parents were murdered and that the very people who killed them held her captive. I'd say that's reason enough to fall into repression."

Captain Picard set his Earl Grey on the table and stood up.

"I agree with you, Deanna, but nothing can be ignored. You're half Betazoid; you need to trust that half. And, be assured we'll make certain that we not only have feelings but information to backup those feelings."

"Yes, Captain," she said, and smiled at him. She tossed her hands out from her sides and stepped toward him, dark eyes darting over to the painting of the _Enterprise-D_ on the wall, then back to him, lost in thought. "I'm just never sure how much I should say about what I feel coming from others. People feel tons of emotions everyday and at different times. Some are unexplainable, especially in teenagers. One of my biggest fears is reading into an emotion that shouldn't be examined so closely. I don't want to be biased, but, like everyone else, I have an opinion. And my job requires me to share the emotions that I feel from certain people without telling them what I _think_ the emotions mean."

She turned her gaze back to him.

"Oh, just listen to me, I'm starting to sound like someone who needs counseling myself."

Picard smiled again. "I understand, Deanna. But don't ever think your job is too objective to be of any use. We'll take what you've said and see where it gets us. After all, I might be reading too far into this as well."

At that moment, the chime at the door sounded. "Come," Picard said, and the doors swooshed open to reveal the pale form of Data. He walked in, the doors closing behind him.

"Captain, I have found and read the records containing information on Arin Greene."

"Go on," Picard said.

Data gave a quick nod and started his report. "She was born on the first Mars colony to Mr. Richard and Mrs. Alia Greene, both Starfleet officers. Records report they were killed by the Romulans on Stardate 41672.5, like Arin Greene surmised. Arin Greene often stayed with relatives in Alpha Centauri while her parents were off on missions so she would not have to be exposed at an early age to a life in space. She—"

"Get on with it, Data," Picard said, realizing that Data was getting into one of his data-spouting rampages. His name suited him well.

Data closed his mouth, a perplexed expression on his face. "Everything she told us matches her records," he finished.

Picard looked toward Deanna. "Then we have no reason to doubt what she has told us. Maybe, like you said, we are 'reading too far into it'."

"Sir?" Data asked, hoping for an explanation.

While walking toward the door to the bridge, Picard, half distracted, said wryly, "Don't let your feelings cloud your judgment about a situation. They might just be trying to deceive you."

A smile appeared on Deanna's face, knowing that the Captain was just giving Data a hard time.

This only made the android more confused. "Sir?" he said again, but by this time, Picard was back in command mode and looking forward.

"Counselor, you are dismissed. Mr. Data, you have Ops. I'll inform Starfleet in just a moment that the reports match and that we will be bringing Arin Greene to the nearest Starbase for relocation and, soon, home, after we supply the Tehrazions and before we finish with charting the exospheres in the Hayashi System." And, with that, Captain Picard left the ready room, Deanna Troi close behind, leaving Data behind to puzzle over the Captain's statement about not letting his feelings cloud his judgments. Data furrowed his brow, then, unable to give himself a logical explanation for the captain's words, tilted his head slightly to the side and dismissed the statement as an effect of Picard's falling under the human weakness of memory loss that Data's programming rendered him incapable of feeling emotions.


	6. Chapter 6

**_Chapter 6_**

Around eleven hours later, and after some much needed sleep and a satisfying breakfast with her son, Dr. Crusher stood by the diagnostic wall, arms folded and looking toward the bed Arin Greene lay in, answering Captain Picard's question about the girl's recovery.

"She won't need to be in here for much longer, Jean-Luc. Her arm's healing nicely, and I've sealed all the lacerations. She has no signs of serious damage from before—for instance from physical torture or anything of the sort. That doesn't say that she doesn't have any mental damage. However, I'll just want to watch her for a bit longer to make sure there are no hidden complications, but so far she's recovering well."

Picard nodded and looked back toward Beverley's peaches-and-cream visage, the orange shade of her hair a nice frame to her pale complexion. Just being around her made him feel more relaxed and at ease. "ETA to Starbase 718 is now three days at our present warp speed. But, before we depart, it is imperative that we drop off the medical supplies to the Tehrazions—I'm sure you understand that, Doctor. That should take no longer than twelve hours standard time, and we should then be back en route. We'll drop her off at the Starbase to be transported back to her home colony on Mars. I've spoken with Starfleet command and they have contacted some relatives of hers who will be delighted to see her after all this time."

Dr. Crusher smiled at the news. "I couldn't imagine what it would like to be in a situation like that. After five years…"the thought turned her smile sad. She couldn't even think of losing Wesley for that long, not knowing where he was or if she would ever see him again.

Changing the course of her thoughts, she asked, "When she is ready to be released from sickbay, where will she stay?"

Picard rubbed his chin and looked Arin's way again. "There are open guest quarters on Deck Eight with her name on it," he said. "She can stay there for the time being."

Right as he finished speaking his thought, there was a shuffling from the diagnostic bed and Arin Greene pushed herself up, blinking to try to shake off the grogginess. Immediately, Dr. Crusher and Captain Picard moved to her side.

"How are you feeling?" Dr. Crusher asked while she started to run some scans on the girl.

"Better, I think," Arin said, her dark hair falling about her shoulders. Before she had fallen asleep for the night, Dr. Crusher had shown her to a sonic shower to clean up from her experience in the shuttlecraft. The smudges were gone and her hair was smooth and glossy again. She had gotten through the shower without any physical problems, which Dr. Crusher saw as an improvement.

"How about your arm? It looks like it is completely repaired; it just needs some use to get into perfect shape again.

Arin nodded, moving her arm around to test it. "It's much better, thank you." Arin then looked up at the doctor and captain. "Um, when can I be released?"

"Well," Dr. Crusher said, glancing down at her scans again. "As soon as you'd like. I see no reason to keep you here any longer." She smiled as she snapped shut her tricorder.

At that moment, the doors swooshed open and Counselor Deanna Troi walked in. She acknowledged the captain's and the chief medical officer's presences, then turned to Arin. At the sight of Arin Greene sitting up on the biobed, Deanna said, "It looks like you're feeling better, Arin." Deanna smiled one of her infectious smiles, and Arin smiled back.

"Yes, I'm feeling much better, thank you."

"Is this a bad time?" Deanna asked Picard and Beverly.

"No, by all means, go ahead, Counselor," Picard said.

Deanna clasped her hands in front of her and looked to Arin again. " I'm not sure I introduced myself to you properly. I am Counselor Deanna Troi."

"Yes, I remember you. It's nice to meet you," Arin said.

"Arin, I came here to talk to you about coming to chat with me tomorrow at 1300. Or, I could come to you if that would be more convenient. We can talk about how you're feeling, how you're enjoying your time on the ship, and maybe bring some things up about the last five years."

At this, Arin lowered her eyes. "I don't like that subject," she murmured.

Deanna, sensing this was a raw topic, turned her tone cheery again. "Well, then, we won't talk about that for now. So, how about I come over tomorrow and we can chat?"

Arin liked Deanna's accent. She found it smooth and melodic, and she found the woman comforting. She nodded at the suggestion, and Deanna smiled again. "Ok, Arin, I'll see you then. It will be nice to talk to you." And here, Deanna turned and started to head back out into the corridor. "Oh," she said, as if in after thought, and looked back over at the teen. "Arin, do you know where you will be staying?"

Picard answered, "Deck Eight guest quarters. Probably Room 3638 would be sufficient." Jean-Luc smiled comfortingly at Arin and nodded good-bye to Deanna as she turned and walked out of sickbay.

Picard picked up the conversation. "I'm glad to hear you are feeling better, Miss Greene." Picard said. "In case you're wondering, we will be placing you in good hands on Starbase 718 where you will be transferred to your home on the Mars colony. I hear you have some very eager relatives there waiting to see you."

Arin smiled at the news. "It's been so long," she said. Her smile turned down a bit at the edges with the thought.

Picard looked up at Dr. Crusher. "I must be going now, but if there is any problem, be sure to see me."

Just as he turned to walk out the sickbay doors and toward the turbolift to the bridge, the doors to sickbay opened and in strode Wesley Crusher. "Hi, Mom," he said. Noticing that the captain was there, he straightened up and extended his greeting. "Hello, Captain."

"Ah, Wesley, I was just leaving," Picard said. "I trust I will see you on the bridge at seventeen-hundred hours?" A warm smile lit the captain's face. Captain Picard still felt very awkward around children and teenagers, but he had been getting used to being around Wesley Crusher. He seemed much less tense around Wes, Beverly noticed, than he had been a couple years ago. Maybe he had been so tense before because he had not gotten used to the fact that Wes looked so much like Jack…

The captain's smile ended up proving contagious and Wesley grinned in return. "Aye, aye, sir," he said.

"Good work, Ensign," he stated, and walked into the corridor.

Suddenly, Dr. Crusher's face lit up. "Wesley, have you met Arin Greene?"

Wesley turned back toward his mother. "Met her, no, but word's out about the girl who came flying out of the Neutral Zone in a damaged shuttlecraft." His gaze shifted to the girl beside Beverly on a diagnostic bed.

"I am she," the girl said, turning her light eyes to rest on Wesley's dark ones and smiling a polite smile. Suddenly, the smile grew warmer.

Beverly was the first to notice it.

"Arin, this is Wesley, my son. Since you are feeling better, he can show you to your quarters where you can stay until we get to the starbase."

"I would be delighted," she said, and started to sit up. Her strength had returned enough for her to give a little eager hop off the bed that she had spent the last twenty-four hours on.

Wesley looked down at Arin, who was smiling at him still. Arin went ahead and took a risk—though it wasn't much of a risk depending on the way Wesley was smiling at her in return—and she placed her hand in the crook of his arm. He looked a bit surprised for a moment, but then his smile deepened and he relaxed into the role she had silently assigned him. He started to walk toward the door leading out of sickbay, eyes never leaving Arin's face.

Beverly waited a moment before ruining the moment. "Wes?" she said, a twinkle in her eye.

Wesley turned around suddenly, the cloud-nine moment falling apart around him at the sound of his mother's voice. He had totally forgotten she was there the whole time!

"Y-yeah, Mom?" he stammered.

"Don't you want to know where her quarters are before you leave?" Even though Wesley's head was obviously spinning, his mother couldn't resist a little fun. After all, she couldn't just let him lead her to the turbolift and then realize he didn't know what command to give the computer!

"Deck Eight," she filled in for him.

"Oh, yeah, of course!" He blushed, and Beverly just wanted to hug him. But she knew that action would just about kill him with embarrassment. "Deck Eight," he repeated. Arin took his arm again and he led her out the door, his flustered expression fading away with the sight of Arin's smiling face.


	7. Chapter 7

**_Chapter 7_**

Arin stood in her quarters, watching as Wesley Crusher showed her where the replicator was, how to access communications, and other necessary information for her stay aboard the _Enterprise_. Arin looked around, impressed. Starfleet sure gave some thought to comfortable living on a starship. The floor was carpeted, the lighting was relaxing, the furniture was lush, and there were potted plants of all colors at every convenient spot. She almost didn't believe she was living in a chunk of metal—a very precise chunk of metal, at that—in the middle of the cold, heartless wilderness of space, if not for the large windows allowing her to see the stars.

Wesley continued to talk as Arin wandered up to a window and peered out at the small, twinkling lights that moved slowly by. She had looked out Starfleet windows before, she remembered, long ago, when she was just nine years old. She remembered the beauty, the feeling of being so small in this universe that the sight of space and the infinite amount of stars gave her. She remembered seeing her home planet, Mars, floating below her in all its rough, orange splendor. She remembered placing her hand on the transparent aluminum, feeling it's smooth surface, seeing a future for her—for her family—in that gigantic universe outside the window. But it was all in vain, it was all for nothing…

"Arin?" the sound of her name being uttered pierced through the memories that were threatening to drown her senses. Her mind snapped back into place—she was on a starship…the _Enterprise_…

"Arin, are you ok?" That voice again. She looked down at her right hand. It was pressed against the window. She quickly drew it back, as if shocked, and held her wrist with her left hand. There was a smudge on the window where her hand had been. Then she realized that her face was wet. Tears. She had been crying.

Arin looked over at Wesley, the boy with the big brown eyes and inquisitive expression. Except, now he was looking at her with an expression of concern.

"Is something wrong? Are you hurting? I can take you back to sickbay. My mom will know what to do," he said gently.

She shook her head. "No," she said, a little sharply. Then, recognizing Wesley's recoil at her harsh tone, she repeated, softer, "No, Wesley, I'm fine, thank you." Despite the tears, she managed to smile at him. "It's just difficult…with everything I've been through…I'm going home now, but my parents won't be there…they will never be there…" Her expression of vulnerability turned sour, and she turned away from him.

"Hey, it will be all right," he said. She could hear the concern in his voice. She would have thought that sweet if she was the person she had been before.

But she wasn't and she never would be.

Wesley hesitated, as if wondering what he should say next.

"You know, my dad died when I was young," he said. "It was hard at first, him never coming back. I was too young to really understand at the time. But things got easier with time. I'm sure things will get better for you. I mean, look—they already have! You're not with the Romulans anymore. You're free! You get to see other people who love you and have missed you…"

"How did your dad die?" Arin asked him.

"Well…just like your parents died. On an away mission."

Arin jerked her head back at him. "How can you say that _and _wear that insignia on your chest?" She thrust her head in the direction of his combadge.

Wesley's hand went up to his combadge as if to protect it from her words.

"It's a symbol of strength and a brighter future. Not to mention it's used for communications. I wear it with pride." He looked a little hurt at her comment.

"How can you wear with pride the symbol of an organization that killed your father?" she snapped at him.

Wesley didn't know what to say to this. "Arin…maybe you should get some rest. I can come back and show you around the ship when you're better."

At this, Arin sighed. "No, Wesley…Wes…I'm fine." A tight smile curved her lips without managing to reach her eyes.

At the question in Wesley's eyes, Arin said, "Really, I'm ok. Just a little upset, but that's to be expected."

"Maybe you should speak with Counselor Troi sometime soon. She always makes people feel better," Wesley suggested.

"I will be speaking with her tomorrow. She seems like a nice woman." Suddenly, Arin grabbed Wesley's hand. "Wes, take me around the ship! It's so beautiful! I want to know everything about it!" She smiled at him in what she hoped was convincing.

Wes chuckled, eyes never leaving her radiant face. "Well, I can't show you _everything_. But I have a good tour prepared."

Arin nodded her head exuberantly. "Ok, let's go!" She started to pull Wesley toward the door.

"Wait a minute, you're feeling better so soon? Shouldn't you take a moment to relax and breathe a bit?" Wes asked, confused at her sudden change in attitude.

"If I stay in this room I'll just think about everything, and I don't want to do that. I need a distraction." Arin looked at Wes imploringly.

Wes couldn't resist. Here he had a damsel in distress! He couldn't leave her to feel lonely!

"Besides, with you showing me around, I'm sure I'll be perfect." Arin hinted. The suggestive tone to her voice made Wesley blush.

"Ok, but just for a bit." Wesley Crusher smiled, face still bright red, and walked with her out the door.

~/~/~/~/~/~

"This is Ten-Forward. Our last stop for the day," Wesley said. "I'm sure you're hungry."

"Yes, very," Arin replied. She stepped into the large lounge. The lighting was warm and described a certain relaxed mood. The bar glowed with an incandescent white light, and a large, orange, flowing design with a green boarder provided a background behind the bar. There were tables and chairs, and people of all shapes, sizes, and colors were relaxing, eating, drinking effervescent drinks, chatting, or playing 3D chess.

And there were huge windows behind the tables of people, windows that could see out into the deep depths of space. The image was truly spectacular.

"Wow, this is certainly a stunning part of the ship," Arin said. She had toured the rec room, swimming pool, gymnasium, the holodecks (she had never been on one before, so the brief walk through the country Earth setting that Wes had called up was enough to make her head spin) and the way to sickbay in case she needed help. He had shown her how to ask the computer for help, too, if she needed it, and he had taught her how to use the turbolifts. Wes had also specified which decks were off-limits to all non-crew members before showing her the last part of the tour—and one of his favorite spots—Ten-Forward.

"I had a feeling you would like it," Wesley said, and led her to the bar.

A woman with dark skin and a wide smile came up to the two of them. Her lack of eyebrows and large, vibrant hat gave her an otherworldly appearance. Wisdom shone through her eyes and radiated from her mien.

"Hello, Wesley," she said, her voice the usual soothing timbre, and nodded at him while leaning forward onto the bar. She looked over at Arin. "And who might this lovely young woman be?"

"This is Arin Greene. Arin, this is Guinan. She's the bartender here at Ten-Fore. She's also good company."

Guinan smiled at this compliment. "Well, I like to be a listening ear whenever I can."

"It's nice to meet you," Arin said.

"And you! So, before I get to know you better, you both look ravenous. What will it be?"

"I'm kinda in the mood for a good old-fashioned grilled-cheese sandwich with tomato soup," Wesely said.

"And something to drink?" Guinan asked.

"Papalla juice," Wes answered.

"Good choice," Guinan said. "How about for you, Arin?" she asked.

"Um…I'll take the same as Wesley," Arin said. She clasped her hands on the bar in front of her and said, "I haven't had grilled cheese in a long time."

"Then we'll need to change that," Guinan replied.

Guinan passed the food request on to an assistant and prepared the drinks.

"So, Arin, where are you from?" she asked, casually. "I don't think I've seen you around."

"She was the one we found in the shuttlecraft," Wesley quickly answered for Arin. Wesley knew Arin was finding it difficult to explain who she was and where she came from to the people who asked. Besides she didn't entirely enjoy saying the last five years of her life had been spent with the Romulans. Her past was too complicated and difficult to talk about in casual conversation. Since Wes was studying Romulans, he really wanted to talk to Arin about life with the sundered and corrupt Vulcans—but he felt that this wasn't the time to do so.

"Ah," Guinan said, knowingly. "I'm sure that was a difficult experience."

Arin nodded, and she looked down at the bar. Just when it seemed like she was going to remain silent, she said, "I found a way to adapt. I found a way to survive. It wasn't…the life I had before…but it will _never _be like that again." For a moment, Guinan noticed Arin's eyes fill with pain, but, a split second later, the revealed emotion was gone.

Guinan felt she needed to say something that would hopefully sooth Arin's pain. She knew what Arin was feeling, only too well. "Arin, there will be times when you look back and yearn for the life you had before. That is natural. But the life ahead of you will be full of joy and surprises, especially since you are now in Federation hands. I'm proud of you. It seems that you have found a way to look at what happened in a positive light. You said it yourself: you survived, Arin. That's more than many people can say. You should be proud of yourself."

"Yeah," Arin muttered. "Proud."

"But it's good to be back, right?"

The question hung in the air for a moment before Arin answered. "Yes. It's good to be back."

The careful answer wasn't lost on Guinan as she finished preparing the papalla juice drinks and slid them over to the two adolescents in front of her.

"Have you ever had papalla juice, Arin?" Guinan asked, changing the subject.

"Hmmm, I think I have once, but I don't remember a lot from before…" She let the answer drift off.

"Well, I'm sure you'll like it. Give it a try," Guinan encouraged.

Arin picked up the drink and swished its contents a bit, just to get a good look and feel of the drink. Then she took a sip and swallowed. Wes watched her.

"It's good, isn't it?" he asked.

"It is!" Arin said, and took another sip. "Of course, Wesley gave me the most perfect tour of the ship, and this is the most perfect way to end it!"

Wesley beamed at the flattering remark and took a sip of his own drink before saying, modestly, "Well, I don't know how _perfect _a tour of the ship could be, but Guinan _does_ make the best drinks."

"I seem to be getting a lot of compliments from you today," Guinan said with a smile. "You must be in a good mood." Her friendly smile turned meaningful as she looked toward Arin.

Wesley didn't miss the pointed gesture and blushed bright red. "It's been a good day," he said, simply.

The sandwiches then came along with the tomato soup.

"Enjoy your meals," Guinan said cheerfully "I have some new customers to tend to. It was nice to get to know you a bit, Arin," she said.

"Thank you, Guinan. It was nice to talk to you."

"See you around, Wesley." And with that, the perceptive woman gave Arin one more glance, then turned and strolled up to a table of two, her purple robes swishing with the motion.


	8. Chapter 8

**_Chapter 8_**

The doors swished open as Geordi set foot into Engineering. He yawned and looked at his chronometer. _0800, just on time to start the morning shift,_ he thought. Geordi had never been much of a morning person, but he knew on Captain Picard's ship, that was no excuse to work below optimum efficiency.

He strolled up to the diagnostic tableand started to read the reports listed on a screen. An ensign walked up and handed him a PADD to check over. He scanned the contents of the device, sighing in concentration. The gold and silver bands of his VISOR hit the light as the ensign walked away and Geordi La Forge turned back to the table.

After scanning the reports of the progress in Engineering, the Chief Engineer walked past the pulsing warp core and toward the stations. He greeted Ensign Elyse van Cogen as she strode by, her blond braid shining in the blue emanations of the warp core, a PADD in one hand. He nodded at her diligence, giving her a silent "keep up the good work". La Forge had started to recognize Elyse as an up-and-coming member of this crew, and he was pleased with her hard work.

As he neared the darker corner of Engineering that held the stations, he noticed a figure standing at one of the diagnostic walls, one finger moving over the touch screen. Depending on the supernatural speed and uncanny contrast of the pale hand against the dark of the screen, Geordi realized that it was Data.

"Morning, Data," Geordi greeted his friend.

Data looked at Geordi, his golden eyes taking in Geordi's dark face. "Good morning, Geordi," he replied. Data looked back at the screen, then back at Geordi. "You look fatigued. I suppose you did not sleep well."

"No, I slept fine, I just don't like the mornings," Geordi responded.

Data blinked in confusion. A look came over his features that Geordi knew only too well: he was trying to process some sort of information that was not compatible with some other information already stored in his positronic circuits.

"Geordi," Data asked, finally. "Does one's like or dislike of the time of day have an effect on how one performs?"

Geordi chuckled. "No, Data, I meant I'm not a morning person."

Data's brow furrowed even more at the comment, and La Forge could just see the electrical impulses in Data's circuits rushing around and bumping into each other.

"Whoa, calm down before we have a new engineering issue on our hands. Let me explain," Geordi reassured, laughing. "There are some people who tend to be more active at night, and some who are more active in the morning." As if right on cue, Ensign Sonya Gomez walked into Engineering, a bounce to her step and a bright smile on her face. "Ensign Gomez, for example, seems to be a morning person. Well, she's always like that, but, as you can see, I am _not _a morning person."

The android nodded his head at the explanation. Geordi and Data continued to watch Gomez as she practically danced through Engineering, smiling at everyone and wishing them a good morning. Geordi was constantly amazed by how much she could talk and by how long she could stay cheery. If there was one thing he had learned throughout his time in Starfleet, it was that there were some people in this universe who could keep going until they passed out from exhaustion, which he was sure Sonya must do every day.

"Good morning, Commanders," Sonya Gomez said as she walked by them, a pleasant expression on her face.

"Good morning," Data and Geordi both responded as she passed, her dark hair bouncing on her shoulders.

"Geordi," Data asked, turning back to his friend, a curious expression on his smooth, pale features. He took a short breath before asking his question—a habit Geordi noticed only too often in his android friend. "While my self-diagnostics tell me I function within acceptable parameters most of the time, do you consider me able to function better in the mornings or the evenings?"

Geordi looked at the android for a moment, a smile on his lips. "You would most certainly be an all-day every-day person, Data," Geordi said, a smile breaking through his lips, allowing his white teeth to show. "So, whatcha up to?" Geordi asked, glancing at the screen as he changed the subject.

"I am engaging in a further study of the data recorded by scans in the Hayashi System," Data answered. "There seemed to be a slight discrepancy between the scans I recorded and the scans Ensign Harper recorded. While the difference could be the outcome of Ensign Harper's inexperience, there should be no reason to overlook this minor disparity."

"I agree, Data, I agree," Geordi said, a slightly distracted tone to his voice. He had moved to another console, bringing up the information from his scans in the shuttlebay.

Data blinked as if remembering something, and turned to Geordi.

"Did you complete the scan of the damaged shuttlecraft from the Neutral Zone?" he asked.

Geordi looked up. "As a matter of fact, I did. I reported to the captain last night. The scans revealed nothing unusual. Arin Greene was telling the truth. The residue from the damage to the shuttlecraft revealed a clear Romulan weapons signature." There had been a brief senior staff conference in the observation lounge yesterday evening when the information about Arin Greene had been discussed. At the time, Geordi had still been waiting on some more reports before presenting the information obtained from the analysis over the shuttlecraft.

Data nodded. "Compared with the information found in Starfleet records, Arin Greene seems to be truthful."

"She's a survivor," Geordi muttered. Data's enhanced hearing caught that comment and he nodded again.

La Forge and Data continued their work in Engineering, occasionally discussing matters together. Geordi ran routine diagnostics on programs while Data continued to analyze the information from the scans. Before Geordi knew it, it was almost past his lunchtime.

"Wow, it's my time to head up and find something to eat. You wanna come along, Data?" the Chief Engineer asked his friend.

Data's hands quickly passed over the screen one last time before he looked toward Geordi, his golden eyes reflecting his perpetually calm demeanor. "I find this time appropriate for social activities," he replied, giving Geordi a small smile.

Geordi looked at the android. "I'll take that as a 'yes'," he said as the man and android walked over to the exit.

Right at that moment, the doors opened and a slight form practically ran into La Forge.

"Whoa, there, watch out," Geordi said to the person.

"Oh, I'm sorry, sir," the form said. Geordi recognized Arin Greene's specific heat signature through his VISOR.

"What are you doing down here?" La Forge asked, tone inquisitive and firm at the same time. Only certain crewmembers had access to Engineering, certainly not ship guests.

"I—I was on my way back to my quarters, from sickbay," she said, haltingly. "I have an appointment with Counselor Troi soon, in my quarters. But I seem to have gotten lost…" The last part of her sentence drifted off as she looked around, taking in the glowing warp core and the consoles around her. There were people in gold and black uniforms all around, focusing on their assigned tasks.

"I would say," Geordi said. He noticed her distracted expression, put his hand on her shoulder, and turned her around to face the way she had come.

As the three walked into the turbolift, La Forge called "Deck Eight" out to the computer, and the turbolift started to race up and back into the saucer section.

La Forge looked at Arin. "You know you were in a restricted area," he said.

Arin's face looked surprised. "I was? Oh, no, I'm so sorry! This is such a big ship…"

The upset tone to Arin's voice made Geordi's frustrations melt away, and he said, gently, "That's alright; nobody was hurt. Just try to be more careful next time. Remember, Deck Eight is where you stay." The computer chirped at his repeating the command and Arin smiled. Geordi wondered how someone could forget what deck they lived on, even if they were new. After all, it wasn't too hard to memorize. But he dismissed the thought when he remembered what had been said in the conference lounge about her past predicament.

With the thought he glanced at Arin, and did a double take when he realized her heat signature in her face had gotten less red and more of a light orange, almost a yellow. He took it to mean she was embarrassed she had forgotten so easily. But wouldn't that mean her face temperature would be getting _redder_? The way she was wringing her hands and glancing toward the doors suggested that she was nervous for some reason.

Before La Forge could say anything about it, Arin straightened herself and glanced over at Data. "I remember you…what species are you?" she asked after taking in his pale form.

"I am an android," he said, simply.

"Really? Neat! I haven't met one before," she said, but seemed to withdraw toward Geordi as if she was either shy or still nervous.

La Forge smiled. "He won't bite," he said. "Will you, Data?"

Data looked confused again. It seemed to Geordi the expression was almost permanent. "We are going to lunch," he said, a questioning look in his eyes. "That is usually what is required when one wants to ingest sustenance."

Arin looked at Data. "You can eat?" she asked, awe in her voice. "What do you eat?"

Data clasped his hands in front of him, almost like a schoolboy reciting the prime numbers, Geordi thought.

"I can eat everything humans can eat, but my systems do not require the amount of nutrients humans need on a daily basis. I will most likely only be socializing today, depending on my system requirements. If I do require sustenance, I will consume semi-organic nutrient suspension in a silicone based liquid medium."

At Arin's confused expression, La Forge muttered, "Don't ask unless you want a fifty-minute lecture in biomechanics."

They reached Deck Eight, luckily, before any more could be said about Data's diet.

"Ah, I know where I am now," Arin said, stepping out into the corridor. "Thank you!"

"You're welcome," La Forge called out to her quickly retreating form. "Don't get lost!"

The turbolift doors closed again, leaving Data and Geordi inside.

"Is it just me or does she seem particularly nervous?" La Forge asked his friend.

"I had noticed her fidgeting and stammering," Data replied. "But I did not think it was unusual for an adolescent to act that way in the presence of officers."

"That's because you're Data," Geordi stated. "People either take to you or…they don't."

Data nodded at the observation. "That is how it seems," he said, taking the thought in stride. "Ten-Forward?" Data asked La Forge, moving on.

"Ten-Forward," Geordi replied. He glanced at his chronometer. "That is, if I have time to eat now."


	9. Chapter 9

**_Chapter 9_**

Deanna stood outside of the door to Arin's quarters, wondering how long she would wait there before she left and filed a report on Arin's not attending the counseling session. When Captain Picard had contacted Starfleet Command the day before about Arin Greene's sudden emergence from the Neutral Zone, he was told that the girl needed to have counseling as soon as possible. They were lucky the ship that had rescued Arin happened to have such a large amount of crew and families aboard that a counselor was required.

_Maybe she forgot_, Deanna thought as she leaned against the bulkhead. _But what could she be doing so soon after coming aboard?_

Right then Troi saw a shape coming toward her. The form was walking at a brisk pace, dark hair bouncing.

Deanna righted herself and watched the oncoming figure.

"Hello, Arin," Deanna said, forcing a gentle smile on her face. "It's 1516—I've been waiting here for you for a while." A question appeared in Troi's eyes. Deanna was still not sure how strong Arin was after her captivity, so she decided she would be gentle—yet firm—until she knew the situation better.

"Oh, yes, I'm sorry…I got lost," Arin said. Troi sensed a slight sinking feeling coming from her. Whether it was a feeling of shame at making Deanna wait or if she was not looking forward to seeing the counselor, Deanna couldn't tell.

Arin pressed a set of buttons outside the entrance to her quarters that unlocked the doors. Troi frowned at this. Why would she lock her doors? No one was going to come in, and, even if they did, Arin had no personal items with her.

Deanna filed this observation away and decided to get to the heart of the matter as quickly as her skills let her. But, she knew she would need to attract the bees with honey, not vinegar.

"That's alright, Arin, I know it's a big ship. I could've helped you, though," the counselor looked down at the empty spot above Arin's heart, "if you'd been wearing your combadge. Where is it? I tried to contact you but no one answered." Deanna didn't mention how she had asked the computer Arin's location and the pleasant female voice had told her that Arin's combadge was not registering any body heat signatures. In other words, the girl had not been wearing it.

At Arin's silence, Deanna turned and walked to the middle of the room, where she saw the small silver-and-gold Starfleet symbol lying atop the coffee table. She picked it up. "You were given a combadge for a reason, Arin. In case of a crisis, we need to know where to locate and contact everyone on this ship. That includes guests." At this she held the communicator out to the teen.

A wave of disgust radiated from Arin. Deanna almost made a audible intake of breath at the potent emotion. She noticed that she had been feeling more emotions from this girl now than she ever had before.

"Arin, what's wrong? Why don't you want to wear the combadge?"

Arin's bright blue eyes shifted down, to the side—it seemed everywhere else but at Troi. Then, all of a sudden, Deanna felt a quick severing of mixed-up emotions and Arin looked up, directly into Troi's black Betazoid eyes.

"There's nothing wrong, Counselor. I just forgot. I'm a little…distracted…lately."

"Why do you think you are distracted?" Troi asked. She thought she knew, but she wanted to hear it from Arin.

"You know…everything that's happened…" Arin took the combadge from Deanna's outstretched hand and put it on. Then she smiled. "Better?"

The Betazoid tentatively smiled back. "Better." Deanna was still unsettled by the sudden loss of emotions and the atypical calm that Arin's body language displayed.

Arin sat down on the sofa and Deanna followed suit, sitting on a chair to the diagonal of the dark haired girl.

"So, what are we going to talk about?" Arin asked.

"Let's start with your time aboard the _Enterprise _so far," Counselor Troi answered. "How have you been settling in?"

"Well," Arin said, clasping her hand together and looking off to the side as if in remembrance. "Wesley Crusher gave me a tour of part of the ship, which I thought was very nice of him. We went to a place called 'Ten-Forward'."

Deanna smiled. "Did you like it there?"

"Yes, it was a nice place." Arin looked around and played with her hands some more.

Deanna sighed. "Arin, you look very distracted. Is there something you want to talk about? Something that might feel better to get off your chest?"

Arin looked up at Troi, a startled expression on her face. "I haven't heard that expression in a while," she said.

"What?" Deanna asked.

"To 'get something off your chest'," Arin replied. "The Romulans never said things like that. That's very human."

"What did the Romulans say instead?" Troi's heartbeat quickened. Now they were starting to get somewhere.

"Um…lots of things, but not that…" Troi reached out to Arin with her Betazoid abilities, trying to find emotions that she knew were there, but hidden under layers and layers of mental discipline. Maybe all those years with the Romulans had forced her to swallow her emotions. Deanna knew it was not a healthy discipline for humans, and all those years of suppressed emotions needed to be released some time.

"Arin," Deanna leaned forward and touched Arin's hand. "I can't help you if you won't let me help you. You've been through a tough time, and I'm sure there are things that would straighten themselves out if you talked about them. Trust me, I know. The only way you can move on is to let go."

No one moved for a moment, and then Arin looked up at Troi, pale blue eyes as cold as glaciers.

"There is no such thing as 'moving on'." Arin whispered through clenched teeth.

Then she stood up and walked toward the door. Arin halted for a moment, her hand on the button to open the doors, then turned around to face the stunned counselor. Troi wished she had sensed this wave of anger and confusion coming from Arin earlier, but the emotions had seemed to come too late.

"And, no," Arin seethed, "you _don't _know."

Then she pushed the button and walked out on the counselor.

Deanna sat there for a moment, confused and upset. What had just happened? Arin had seemed so calm, so relaxed with Deanna, then, all of a sudden, Arin had made a complete 180. Deanna Troi didn't like feeling in the dark about emotions. This was her specialty!  
Instead of chasing Arin down the corridor, Deanna slowly stood up, and made her own way out of the room. Then she headed straight for Ten-Forward. She needed some chocolate.

~/~/~/~/~/~

Chocolate ice cream with chocolate fudge and chocolate chips. _Nothing spells perfect better than this combination from heaven_, Deanna thought with a slight feeling of content. The feeling wouldn't be so slight if Arin Greene hadn't just walked out on the empathic counselor. For the one-hundredth time in the last ten minutes Deanna Troi wondered what she had done wrong. Or why she hadn't sensed that Arin was that emotionally compromised before. She would have to do something to resolve this problem sooner or later, but, for now, she was just going to sit in the Ten-Forward lounge and eat her chocolate.

"I may not be Betazoid," a voice said from behind her, "but something's telling me you're not in a good mood."

Deanna Troi looked over and saw Guinan walking toward her. The counselor looked down at her chocolate concoction. "Maybe that something is all this chocolate in front of me."

"Maybe," Guinan said, smiling. Guinan's rich, amiable voice soothed a bit of Deanna's anxiety. "May I sit here?" the bartender asked, gesturing to the chair on the other side of the table.

"Of course," Deanna said politely. But she wasn't in the mood for talking.

Guinan pulled the chair out and sat down. She looked at Deanna for a moment before saying, "I know you're probably not in the mood for talking."

Troi glanced up from playing with the melting ice cream. "Since you're so perceptive, maybe _you_ should help Arin."

"Arin?" Guinan questioned. "Ah, the girl from the shuttlecraft."

"You know her?" Deanna asked.

"We met yesterday," Guinan replied. "She's a nice girl. She just seemed a bit…"

"Distracted?" Deanna finished for her.

"I thought you couldn't read minds," Guinan said, her contagious smile returning to her face.

Deanna smiled in spite of herself. Then, the smile fell. "Guinan, when I'm around her, it's almost like I might as well be speaking to a Vulcan, or Data. Now, I don't know how she became so mentally disciplined, but she can mask her feelings _so well_. I can't reach her. And, before you know it, she's walking out on me, angrier than I've ever seen her."

"She did that?" Guinan asked, sympathetically.

Troi nodded and took another bite of chocolate. The contrast of the sweet of the ice cream and the bitter of the chocolate chips on her taste buds made her relax a little before she got back into it.

"I don't know what to do, Guinan," she said. "I can't reach her, but I _know _she is repressing emotions. They're so bad they're going to overflow some day. _That _I can sense."

"Deanna, maybe you can't help everyone. Maybe you do your best until we reach the Starbase and, if nothing's worked, we hand her over and, possibly, somebody else can help her. It's still very soon after her rescue. Maybe she needs some time, too."

Deanna didn't like the fact that perhaps she couldn't help everyone. But she knew Guinan was right.

Guinan continued. "When I talked to her, she didn't act comfortable either. But isn't that to be expected?"

Troi was surprised to hear the confidence in her voice at what she said next. "No, Guinan. There's something different about her. Something I can't put my finger on."

"Well, maybe we should get to the bottom of this," Guinan said.

"You're right. I need to talk with Captain Picard." Deanna Troi pushed the last vestiges of her chocolate ice cream away and stood up. She smoothed her turquoise jumpsuit out and shifted her dark black eyes to Guinan's dark brown ones. "Guinan, I don't know what I would do without you," she said, gratitude in her voice.

"I'm sure you would do just fine. You just needed to speak your thoughts to clear them. I was just the soundboard."

"You're more than a soundboard, Guinan. And I'm sure I say that on behalf of everyone on this ship."

Deanna Troi smiled, straightened herself to her usual confident bearing, and walked out the doors.

Guinan smiled again, pleased. _Well, _somebody _needs to counsel the counselor_.


	10. Chapter 10

**_Chapter 10_**

After Arin had stormed out of her counseling session with Deanna Troi, she stomped down the corridor. She knew she was radiating anger and frustration, but she didn't care. She didn't want to throw her walls up around her emotions, like she had taught herself. These Starfleet officers walking by her—and most likely judging her—could go to hell. They didn't know _anything _about her or her life!

A hand grabbed her arm and stopped her. "Whoa, Arin, are you ok?" It was the man with the VISOR again. She yanked her arm out of his grip.

"Leave me alone, Starfleet!" she said, and speed-walked down the hallway.

She turned another corner and ended up in front of Wesley Crusher's door. Hoping his mother was still in sickbay, she pressed the door chime.

Luckily for Arin, Wesley opened the door.

"Oh, hi, Arin! How are you?"

Deciding it was her best bet to play the victim this time, she burst into fake tears. Inside, she was still seething.

"Arin, Arin, what's wrong? How can I help you? Come inside!" Wesley said, not knowing what to do.

"Oh, Wesley…Wes…I just don't feel ok! I don't know why I'm crying, I just don't!" She sobbed, wiping the tears from her face. She stumbled into the room and fell onto the couch.

Wesley sat beside her. Then he tapped his combadge. "Wesley to Dr. Cru—," he began.

"No!" Arin yelled, yanking Wesley's hand away from the device pinned to his gray outfit. "I'm not _physically_ hurting, I'm just…" she broke off, trying to steady her choppy breaths.

"Maybe you should speak to Counselor Troi. I'm sure that would help," Wesley suggested.

"No, I already tried that. Nobody can help me—" then, suddenly, an idea came to Arin, "—but you," she said.

"Me?" Wesley asked.

"Yes." Arin looked around the room.

"How?" Wesley was confused.

"You can…you can get me something to drink from the replicator, first," she said. "I'm thirsty."

"Ok," Wesley said. He sighed in relief. He could do that for her.

Wesley got up and walked to the replicator. Arin looked around the room, eyes clear of tears that she had cried only a moment ago.

Then, as Wesley was calling up a glass of cold water, Arin eyed a small gray device on a desk.

"Wes," she uttered as he came back with her drink. She took the glass and sipped it, more for Wesley's benefit than anything. "What's that?"

"It's a tricorder," he replied.

"I'd like to know how it works," she said. For an explanation, she added, "I like learning about technology." In all reality, she couldn't care less. She was running out of time…

"Ok…" Wesley said, still confused from Arin's jumping emotions. He got up from the couch and grabbed the tricorder from the desk. Then, he sat back down next to Arin. "You open it, like this, and you press this button when you want to record data. That's what it is used for—recording and deciphering possibly anomalous information. We use these, for example, on away missions when visiting a new planet. There are small scanners and sensors within the device that pick up any information from the space around you."

Arin nodded. Wes looked up at her, an expression of relief coming back into his eyes at her calm exterior demeanor. Feeling encouraged, he continued.

"You can check the diagnostics you ran by pushing this button over here, and it will show you graphs and charts to help you better comprehend the information. The tricorder will automatically store the data for future use unless you delete it, which you can do here," he pointed to another button.

"I like this," Arin said, taking the tricorder and turning it over in her hands. "Can I keep it, Wes?" she asked him, trying to make her voice as sweet and innocent as possible.

"Uh…" Wesley answered, smoothly. "Uh, no, I don't think Captain Picard would like me to give this away to anyone."

"How about I just borrow it so that I can figure it out? It's so interesting," she persisted.

"No, I'm sorry, Arin, but I can't do that," Wesley answered, finding his resolve. "I hope you understand." So, he had been brainwashed by Starfleet "ethics" too, Arin could see.

Arin frowned, a look that completely transformed her face, Wesley noticed. Then, her face softened and she smiled at him. "I understand, Wes. I completely understand."

Wesley relaxed. He had felt so helpless when she had been crying. It was such a horrible feeling. Now that the tears were gone from her bright blue eyes, he felt that maybe he wasn't so bad with girls after all. Not if comforting them included telling them about Starfleet technology, he supposed.

Arin took another sip of her drink—it was her way of giving herself a moment to think. She _needed _that tricorder.

"Wesley," Arin said after a moment. "I really appreciate you giving me…a shoulder to cry on. I haven't had that in a long time."

"Any time, Arin," Wesley responded. "I can only imagine how you're feeling right now. I've been doing some studying on Romulans. They've never been the nicest lifeforms in the galaxy. If I can help again, please let me know."

Wesley Crusher looked so willing to help and so concerned that Arin realized this was the perfect time distract him. She leaned closer to him—praying to anything worth anything in this universe that he wouldn't shy away—and kissed him, right on the lips.

Arin knew Wesley's heart was racing right about now, and his thoughts were probably the most jumbled they've ever been. It most likely hadn't been nice of her to play him from the beginning, but she knew his inexperience and his enthusiasm toward becoming a Starfleet officer made him an easy pawn.

When Arin pulled away, she made sure to stare him in the eyes. Wesley looked surprised at first, but then he relaxed and smiled.

"What was that for?" he asked.

"You've been so kind to me, Wesley, I thought I'd give you something in return."

Wesley persisted to smile, his face blushed bright red from the kiss. Arin made sure he didn't drop his gaze by continuing to stare him in the eyes. She stood up and walked toward the door, moving with all of the womanly charm she could muster. Glancing behind her, Arin noticed Wesley was still grinning and staring at her. She turned her head with a swish of her ebony hair and pressed the button to open the doors. Out in the corridor, she heard the doors hiss shut behind her, and she looked down in triumph at the small gray tricorder still in her hands. This was a piece of cake.


	11. Chapter 11

**_Chapter 11_**

"Captain, I _know _there's something wrong with Arin Greene," Deanna Troi said confidently. Picard noticed the sound of conviction in her voice, her straight back, her raised chin. "I wasn't sure before, but now I know there's more to her than a girl scarred from a tragic experience."

Picard shifted in his seat behind his polished ready room desk. He did not like the sound of this.

"How do you know for sure, Counselor? What evidence do you have?"

"For one, sir, she seemed more than a little disturbed at the counseling session we had today. It got to the point where she couldn't hide her emotions behind her mental barrier anymore, so she needed to create a _physical _barrier. She ran out of the room before I could make any more progress. She was scared of something."

"And she wasn't just responding to a fear of disclosing her difficult past?" Picard asked. Deanna Troi was not only part Betazoid, but also had a degree in psychology. Picard knew there was something more that made Deanna this upset.

"No, Captain. While that was a thought on my mind, I went over every word I said to her and no patient I have ever spoken with who has been diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder has been this distracted and this…different." At Picard's questioning expression, she said, "I'm sorry Captain, I have no other word for it."

"Tell me everything, Deanna," Picard said, softly. He knew she had more to say and she was struggling to keep it brief for the sake of the impromptu meeting.

Deanna nodded and started. "At the beginning of the session, she was fifteen minutes late and I noticed her door was locked. While I know these are no reasons to accuse someone, it made me start to wonder. She has _no _reason to lock her doors and where could she have been on the ship so early in her time aboard?

"When we entered the room, I noticed she wasn't wearing her combadge. I sensed strong emotions of disgust from her when I mentioned it. This made me think that maybe she was lying when she said she thought the Romulans killed her parents. Maybe she _was_ convinced they were killed on an away mission and Starfleet was, therefore, responsible. While at the time I had sensed no lies coming from Arin, I now know she has some serious discipline allowing her to block her emotions, and that discipline is starting to break down. Throughout the counseling session, Arin was showing strong body language that described her as distracted and anxious. I felt strong floods of emotions, and then a sudden calm. It was almost disorienting for me." Deanna paused for a moment, then continued. "Suddenly, her emotions broke through, stronger than ever—disgust, hatred, rage—and she left the room. I haven't seen her since." Deanna's hands clenched on the chair in front of her. This whole situation was making her feel that there was a need for action, but she didn't know what.

Right at that moment the door chime sounded. Picard eyes shifted toward Deanna, then toward the door. "Come," he said to the person on the other side of the door, almost reluctantly. He didn't want to be diverted right now.

In walked Geordi La Forge, his dark right hand lifted as if he needed to say something urgently. "Captain—," he said, then broke off when he noticed Deanna's heat signature through his VISOR. "Counselor," he greeted, and nodded toward her.

Deanna nodded back, wavy locks swaying with the motion.

"Yes, Mr. La Forge?" Picard asked, wondering what seemed so urgent.

Deanna stepped aside so Geordi could come up next to her. "I know this might be nothing, Captain, but I would like you to know that on my way to the bridge I found Arin Greene running down the hallway. I tried to ask her what was wrong, but she pulled away. Also, I found her in Engineering earlier today, wandering around. How she found a way to get there, I couldn't tell you, but something's up with her." Geordi waited for a response, hoping he hadn't just filled the room with moot words. He knew it had been a risk for him to confront the captain about something that he _felt _was wrong. But it had been gnawing at him all day, and Arin running down the corridor like she was being chased by a Klingon _targ_ was the straw that broke the camel's back.

To Geordi's surprise, Deanna was the one who spoke next. "That's exactly what I'm here for, Geordi! Arin Greene is not who she seems."

It only took Picard a second to come to a conclusion. Two of his most respected officers were coming to him about a concern over Arin Greene, and, not only that, Picard himself had had some suspicions.

Right as Picard was about to speak, the door chimed again. "Come," Picard said, and Data walked in.

Data extended greetings to everyone in the room, a slightly surprised expression on his face, as if he hadn't expected to see such a crowd. But, maybe it was just the lighting that made him look that way.

"Sir, if I may. Due to the strange occurrence in Engineering of our guest, Arin Greene, and the fact that I have noticed her actions, lately, are not of the human norm, I have extended my research of Arin Greene and have found something of note."Data paused, and Picard wondered if anyone had been teaching him how to pause for dramatic effect. If so, he preferred to do without the added suspense.

"On Stardate 42896.3, she was rescued from the Romulans in much the same manner as yesterday, this time aboard the _U.S.S. Prometheus_ NCC-58377."

"The _Prometheus_…" Picard muttered. "Wasn't she destroyed?"

"Yes, sir," Data replied. "Shortly after their rescue of Arin Greene. Records indicate a shuttlecraft's unauthorized departure from the shuttlebay 11.6 minutes before the destruction. Those records had not been completely destroyed and were retrieved in the ship's debris on Stardate 42957.3. The conclusion was that the destruction of the _U.S.S Prometheus_ was done by sabotage."

As Data said these last two words, Deanna Troi, Geordi La Forge, and Captain Picard looked at each other in stunned silence. Quickly, Picard shook off the feeling of shock, as he had been taught to do so long ago, and tilted his head up.

"Computer," he said. "Where is the location of Arin Greene?"

"Arin Greene is nowhere on the ship," was the Computer's response.

"When was she first considered missing?" Picard asked, a sinking feeling entering his gut.

"Arin Greene's combadge signal was terminated 26.7 minutes ago."

"Computer, where was she last located?"

"Arin Greene was last located in Cargo Bay 2."

At this, Picard tapped his combadge. But, drowning out the following chirp, the whooping sound of Red Alert penetrated the silence in the ready room.


	12. Chapter 12

**_Chapter 12_**

Arin Greene walked casually down the corridor, trying to act as though she wasn't lost. She was clutching the tricorder with both hands, heart thrumming. She'd done this once before, she could do it again.

Light orange doors passed her on both sides. As Arin strolled down the hallway (at least, she was _trying _to stroll), she scanned the doors for the words "Cargo Bay" or "Turbolift". There _had _to be an easier way!

Up ahead she noticed a woman in medical and science blue coming out of a room. Arin slowed down, trying her hardest to act as casual as possible. It wasn't easy with all the adrenaline rushing through her.

Arin watched the woman walking down the hallway. Then, the woman halted and turned in front of the black plating on the bulkhead. Arin slowed some more, watching what the woman was doing.

The officer placed her hand over the black surface and it lit up, showing a design of the ship. The woman pressed her finger over some more parts of the screen, asked the computer where Science Lab 4-D was, and, after an answer, she continued on her way.

As Arin passed the woman, her pace sped up. She turned a corner and, seeing nobody there, she placed her hand against the black surface on the bulkhead, as well.

The screen lit up with the image of the ship, just as Arin had suspected, and Arin soaked in as much information as she could. Still not able to find what she was looking for, she asked the computer, "Computer, where is a cargo bay?"

"Please specify," the pleasant computer voice responded.

Arin sighed in frustration and asked, "Which decks hold the cargo bays?"

"Decks 4 and 18 hold cargo bays."

"Where are the shuttlebays located?" Arin asked the computer.

"The main shuttlebay is located across decks 3 and 4," the computer answered.

"No, not the _main _shuttlebay—the other ones."

"Two shuttlebays are located on Deck 13."

Without another word, Arin turned on her heel and headed toward the nearest turbolift, which she noticed was in a slight alcove to her left.

Once inside the turbolift, Arin had to state her desired location. "Deck…" She thought about it for a moment. She didn't have time to make sure she was going in the right direction when it came to the shuttlebay, so she would have to get moving toward a cargo bay. She decided to try the highest deck first. "Deck 4," she stated, and the turbolift moved.

Arin was dropped off on Deck 4, no idea which direction she was going. The ship was so big! She'd never attempted to navigate on a ship this expansive. What had Wesley said it was? A Galaxy-class starship? The name reflected the size of the ship well. For all she knew, it _could_ be the size of a galaxy!

Using her resources, Arin activated a black screen on the bulkhead again. She pressed her finger on the deck she was on, and quickly found the location of the cargo bay. She pressed the image again, and got a closer view of the deck, one that showed her where she needed to go in order to get to the cargo bay. Memorizing the maze of corridors, she went off down the hall until she found a door that said "CARGO BAY 1" on it.

She stepped close to the doors and they opened with a humming noise. Once inside, her presence activated automatic lighting. The lighting was not enough for actual work in the cargo bay, but enough for her to see where she was going and what was around her. She walked over to the middle of the large room, taking in the size of it. She hoped this was the cargo bay that held the weapons.

Just then she remembered that she was still wearing the combadge that that counselor-woman had wanted her to wear. She ripped it off and looked at it. It's smooth gold and silver surface glowed in the faint lighting of the room. The symbol taunted her, teased her. "I killed your parents!" it said, laughing at her. Starfleet thought it knew everything, with its "Prime Directive" and its sugarcoated diplomats. _All Starfleet knows is how to turn wonderful people with families and loved ones into automatons programmed to die at the expense of what? _Knowledge?

With this thought, Arin threw the combadge onto the floor and stomped on it, turning the device into a mess of crushed wiring and microchips. She had forgotten that she had been wearing it, being so wrapped up in her mission. Arin hoped that no one had thought to search for her before she crushed it, destroying her signal. If that was the case, she would have to work faster.

As she took in the room, she noticed the cargo bay had gray walls and a gray floor. A large platform that looked like a cargo transporter lay off to one side, and crates and containers of items filled the room. She walked toward a crate and leaned over to read the lettering on the side. It said "MEDICAL SUPPLIES" and, right under that, in smaller letters, she read "TEHRAZIONS".

"Tehrazions," Arin said aloud. That was the name of the aliens on the planet near the border of the Neutral Zone. That was the planet that the weapons were for. The Romulans had told her the Tehrazions were receiving military support from the Federation so they could attack the Romulans. Since the Tehrazions were so close to the Romulan Neutral Zone, it was a strategic move for the Federation to arm the planets that bordered it, creating a tightly woven defense…and offense.

Arin pulled out her tricorder, a sinking feeling entering her stomach. She would search all these crates for the weapons. Surely there were weapons here, just like the Romulans had told her!

Arin scanned the crate in front of her, telling herself the words on the front were lying. She didn't think why someone, in a case like this, would lie when there really was no need. Doubt filled the back of her mind, but she refused to let it cloud her conscious thoughts. Starfleet was lying, the Romulans were telling the truth. The Romulans were the only ones who had ever taught her to survive in this harsh universe.

Arin read the screen on the tricorder like Wesley had shown her. From what she could tell, the crate held only medicines and medical devices. No, then, the next crate held weapons.

Arin Greene scanned as many crates as she could, realizing by the twenty-sixth crate that maybe she was wrong. Maybe there _were _no weapons here.

_Then they must be in the other cargo bay, or the other one! _Arin thought, denial clouding her reasoning. But, something deep down inside her kept telling her she was wrong. The Romulans were wrong. There were no weapons on this ship headed to the Tehrazions.

Instead of planning an attack, the _Enterprise _had been sending aid to aliens in need. They had been _helping_. And what were the Romulans doing right now? Probably cloaked and stalking the ship—the ship that was only trying to help billions of aliens from losing loved ones like she had.

Arin sat on the ground, fatigue and shock spreading through her body. The Romulans had wanted scans of the weapons for her to take back to the ship. They wanted her to temporarily disable the _Enterprise_, which she would do—easy—just like last time. She hadn't been snooping around in Engineering for no reason. They wanted her to leap on the next transporter beam or shuttlcraft back to the ship and get the hell out. She couldn't go through with her plan. She couldn't sabotage the ship. She couldn't do what she did last time.

While Arin Greene sat on the floor, something snapped inside of her. All the emotions that she had been holding back, all of the pain and sorrow of the last five years, everything came flooding out.

She dropped the tricorder on the metal floor plating and held her hands to her pale blue eyes, sobbing in agony.

But the sobs stopped as she felt the ship rock beneath her, throwing her body toward the crates like she weighed little more than a rag doll.


	13. Chapter 13

**_Chapter 13_**

Picard glared at the viewscreen before him, surprise and annoyance evident in the angled lines of his visage and the set of his jaw.

"_Merde,_" he muttered. This was _not _what he'd foreseen on the _Enterprise's_ trek to Starbase 718, and this was _certainly _not going to please anyone at Starfleet Command.

After he'd rushed onto the bridge at the sound of Red Alert, Captain Picard had automatically looked expectantly toward the person in command of the bridge at the time, William Riker. But no words were needed as the distressed look on Riker's face led Picard's gaze to the viewscreen.

The telltale green birdlike ship hovered in space before the _Enterprise_, poised for action. Shock spread through Captain Picard as he took in the severity of the situation.

"A Romulan warbird." Picard said this almost expectantly, calm and professionalism taking over the chaos raging in his thoughts. Romulans were _not _supposed to be on this side of the Neutral Zone. This act alone was enough for a full-out war between the Federation and the Romulan Star Empire, something Captain Picard had _never _wanted to experience in his days.

"The ship appeared as if out of nowhere," Riker said, punctuating his words with an anger at the vulnerability of the _Enterprise_. "No sensor detections, nothing. They took complete advantage of their cloaking device."

Why the fates had ever decided to grace the Romulans with the ability to cloak their ships with invisibility was beyond any of Picard's comprehension. But that heated thought was for another time.

"They fired at us, too. It was a damned violent 'warning shot'." Riker's blue eyes flashed with annoyance.

"Open hailing frequencies," Picard commanded. With Red Alert had come the automatic lock-down of the ship: shields up and weapons powered—so Picard knew the only acceptable next step was to try talking before fighting. Lieutentant Worf, on the other hand, had had other thoughts, and his dark fingers passed from an alert stance over the weapons console to opening a channel on the communications console.

"Hailing frequencies open," Worf stated through a clenched jaw. There was nothing he would like to see more than the obliteration of the Romulan craft before him.

"Romluan vessel, this is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation Starship _Enterprise_. You are trespassing on Federation territory. You will be escorted out immediately. If you attempt to evade or disable our vessel, we will be forced to open fire. Do you comply?"

In response, the image of a Romluan male—light skin with a slight greenish tint to it, brow ridge set in a V shape on his forehead, slanted eyebrows, black, straight-cut hair, and a menacing scowl—lit up the screen.

"Captain Jean-Luc Picard, this is Commander Taelar of the Romulan Star Empire. We demand the return of our prisoner, Arin Greene. Once the exchange has been made, we will peacefully make our way back to Romulan Space."

Picard heard a feral growl behind him. "Do not believe his Romulan lies, Captain!" implored Worf.

"Lieutenant," Picard said, silencing Worf without taking his eyes off the screen. Out of the corner of his eye, Picard had noticed Wesley Crusher at the helm tense at the mention of Arin's name.

"Arin Greene is a Federation citizen; she belongs in our space," Picard replied. "I see no reason to hand her to you." Picard was starting to wonder if this was a part of the sabotage that Arin Greene had been practicing on Federation starships, or if this was real. For the moment, the sabotage most likely happening on his ship right now and the threat of the Romulan vessel was as real as he needed.

"This is outrageous!" the Romulan began. "If you do not send her to us—"

But Picard wanted to hear no more. He made a slicing motion across his throat, signaling Worf to cut communications. He needed to take action _now_.

Picard tapped his combadge. The familiar chirp that accompanied the tap prompted Picard to speak. "Picard to security. Locate Arin Greene immediately and bring her to the bridge." With the acknowledging remark, Picard turned his attentions to his bridge crew.

"Worf, keep phasers locked on prime targets of the Romulan vessel. Data, scan for any signs of cloaked ships, both long-range and vicinity scans. Ensign Crusher, plot for evasive maneuvers, but do not take any actions until my say so."

"Aye, sir," Wesley Crusher said, voice quivering a bit. But, Picard noticed only peripherally, Wes regained control and set to work on the console in front of him.

A beeping noise cut through the tension on the bridge. "Sir," Worf said, "the Romulans are attempting to hail us."

At Picard's brisk nod, Worf accepted the request for communications and Commander Taelar's scowling face appeared on the screen once again.

"I was not finished, Captain," Taelar said, annoyance flowing though his voice. "Arin Greene is not the only reason I and others have decided to cross into Federation space. We anticipate a direct violation of the treaty of peace between our peoples!"

At the comment of there being "others" in Federation territory, Picard looked toward Data. Expecting his question, Data had already turned his head to face Picard. "Sensors detect no other vessels in the area. This could either be a product of the cloaking devices undoubtedly in effect, or this could be—"

"A bluff," Riker announced before Data could finish.

This exchange of words was uttered quickly and at a volume that would be undetectable to the Romulans.

Picard shifted his eyes back up at Commander Taelar, standing firm and unmoving. He hoped his body language was symbolic of his response to the situation.

"Whether you anticipate a violation of the treaty or not does not give you the right to break the agreement before any actions against your people are taken."

"That, Picard, is where you apply ethnocentrism. _Our_ culture finds this proof enough to take action."

"And what proof is there?" asked Picard, curious yet still holding strong to his firm stance.

"You are supporting the planets along the Neutral Zone with military supplies, armaments, and defense systems. This has gone beyond defense and into clear offense. You are planning an attack on the Empire, and therefore the treaty has been severed."

"Commander Taelar, I assure you nothing of the sort has occurred. If you are worried about attack, you should be contacting Starfleet Command instead of charging through the Neutral Zone and threatening Federation flagships. When you see the error of your premature thinking, you will no doubt realize that the Federation has respected the treaty the entire time."

At this point, Picard saw no point in continuing. The problem was identified and solved, but for some reason Picard didn't think this was the end of it.

"If you speak the truth, send us Arin Greene." Commander Taelar's slanted eyebrows narrowed over his dark eyes.

"I do not see where she stands in this conflict," Picard answered. That comment made him wonder what progress security had made on locating the girl.

"If you do not comply, then we will consider this an act of war. The Federation surely does not wish to instigate a conflict, do they?"

At this last comment Picard knew something was up. The Romulans didn't really want to fight an all-out war. They were dancing on the line between peace and conflict, but all for what?

"Mute," Picard ordered, hoping the silence would hold off an attack for the moment, at least.

At that moment, he wished Deanna Troi were on the bridge. She could have possibly brought some clarity to the situation, but he had a feeling the time for that was over.

Picard turned to look at the forward turbolift doors as they swished open, the silent flashing of the Red Alert reflecting off his bald head. A security detail of three flanked a stunned and upset-looking Arin Greene, a gash on her forehead. He tapped his combadge again and asked for Doctor Crusher. He was starting to feel the weight of different problems balancing precariously—and quite heavily—on his shoulders.

"Arin," Picard said, turning to the teen. "What do you know about all this?" he gestured to the screen in front of him, noticing the shining streaks on her face where tears had fallen.

She started shaking her head. "Commander Taelar…" she said. Picard gestured for Worf to take off the mute, and signaled for Arin to continue. He needed some answers and he hoped an exchange between the commander and the girl would supply him with the answers he sought.

"Commander Taelar," Arin said, voice louder. "We were wrong. There are no weapons here." She shook her head again. "Just—medicine."

Picard picked up from here. "We are en route to a colony that needs medical support. We have no armaments aboard, but many crates of medical supplies. Is this where the confusion is stemming?" Picard was desperate to sort this out without another shot fired. There were children and families aboard—probably his only personal issue with the ship—and there was no way _anybody _on his vessel would be hurt from such a foolish miscommunication.

But Commander Taelar's eyes did not move from Arin's. "Return to us immediately. Is everything in place?" There was a hint of desperation in his voice. "Things were never meant to go this far."

"No, Commander, I did nothing after I discovered the truth," Arin replied.

"There is no victory in 'nothing'!" Taelar shouted. "The Praetor wants victory, and there will only be prosperity in this! When he finds out, we will be heroes!"

The puzzle pieces were starting to come together at last.

"Commander Taelar, you were never ordered to go through this confrontation, were you?" Picard asked. "The Romulan Empire has no clue of your transgressions in crossing the Neutral Zone and threatening a Federation ship." Picard bet the Commander wasbluffing about the "others", too.

At this, Commander Taelar gave Picard a piercing glare, and the screen went blank.

"Forward view," Picard ordered, and the viewscreen blinked on just in time to see an orange burst of energy coming from the Romulan vessel hit the forward shields. Everyone jerked forward at the impact, and Picard struggled to stay standing.

"Forward shields down to eighty-seven percent," Data stated.

"Reroute fifty percent of power from each of the remaining shields to the forward shield," Picard replied, betting no other Romulans were in the area. "And target first their shields, then their weapons devices."

Worf attended to his task with much vigor. His Klingon blood surged through him, burning with battle lust. This was when he performed his duties best.

At Picard's command, Worf shot two phaser bursts to the ship in front of him. One hit the Romulan's shields with a burst of light, the veins in the warbird's shields showing with the impact. The other missed due to the fact the Romulan ship was now moving.

"Compensate shield strength!" Picard said, turning back to his seat. Sitting would be much smarter at a time like this. "Evasive maneuvers, Crusher!"

The Romulan vessel swooped to port, shooting two more shots at the _Enterprise_. The security personnel and Arin Greene clung to the wooden banister flowing from Worf's console to the trough of the bridge, anticipating the blow.

But, Wesley's quick evasive maneuvers paired with Worf's shots at the attacking vessel kept the _Enterprise _out of damage. More phaser bursts battered the Romulan's shields. In return, the Romulan craft continued to fire at the _Enterprise_. Picard noted the Romulan ship was firing with no particular logic—probably a sign of panic and desperation. Commander Taelar knew he shouldn't be here and it was only a matter of time before he limped back to his Praetor, defeat written all over him.

At Picard's request of "fire at will," Worf kept attacking the antagonist ship while managing to tear the warbird's shields down. Dataconfirmed this as he stated, "Romulan vessel's shields down to thirty percent."

"Again, Worf," Picard said. Two streaks of phaser bursts later, and the Romulan's shields were down, leaving nothing but the black iciness of space between the two ships. But, as if obstinate, the Romulan vessel shot another two shots, rocking the _Enterprise _and causing bright orange sparks to fly on the bridge and consoles to flicker. Worf finished off the weapons play with a photon torpedo to each of their disruptor tubes, destroying all capabilities of any more attack from the Romulans.

"Status report." At the end of the mayhem, Picard's first thought was toward his ship; he wanted to know how much damage the ship had suffered.

"Sickbay reports four casualties so far, no deaths. All systems operational. Minor damage to the hull integrities of Decks Fourteen and Fifteen. Shields currently at eighty-two percent. Photon torpedoes and phasers recharging, operational in twenty-six seconds," answered Worf, his voice coarse from the tension of the attack.

Picard knew Commander Taelar's actions in attacking the _Enterprise _were out of desperation. The Commander's lone ship hardly had a chance against a vessel as advanced as the _Enterprise_, and Picard knew Taelar wasn't oblivious to that fact.

"The Romulan vessel is disabled," Worf stated as if reading Picard's mind.

"Open hailing frequencies." Picard only hoped their communications worked after the battle. He stood up, uncrossing his legs as he stood.

But, before Worf could open a channel, an incessant beeping and flashing appeared on Data's Ops console. "Captain, Romulan vessel is charging warp engines."

Picard watched the screen expectantly.

"No answer to hailing, Captain," Worf stated.

Another second and the warbird was speeding away at warp speed.

"Heading, Mister Data?" Picard asked.

"They are heading back to the Neutral Zone," the android answered.

_Let them_, Picard thought. _Let them limp back to the Praetor. Let this be a lesson._

Suddenly, the forward turbolift doors swished open, and Picard saw the form of Beverly Crusher walk aboard, her hair in disarray and a red cut on her cheek.

"I'm sorry, Captain, I tried to get here as soon as possible, but there was all that commotion…" She took in the condition of the bridge crew with a practiced eye, noticing the minor bumps and bruises on them. Nobody seemed to need immediate help. She noticed the gash on Arin Greene's forehead, and walked toward her. Dr. Crusher opened her tricorder and proceeded to scan the wound.

"No apologies, Doctor. And you should check that cut," Picard suggested, pointing out the mark on her face.

Beverly Crusher touched her face as if she had no idea she was hurt. Feeling the raised edges around the laceration, she shook her head slightly and sighed. "I'll fix it later. It's just a flesh wound."

"Captain." Geordi La Forge's voice reverberated throughout the bridge. "I don't know what just happened up there, but I do know you want a report. I've got repair teams on Decks Fourteen and Fifteen cleaning up the damage with the hull, but otherwise we just have some minor maintenance issues from the fight to clean up and then we can be on our way in approximately twenty-eight minutes."

"Cut it in half, La Forge; we have colonists who need medical attention."

"Aye, sir." With that, the channel from Engineering was severed.

Picard noticed Wesley was turned around in his chair, staring at Arin Greene, looking upset and confused. "Arin?" he asked quietly. She heard him and turned toward him. Dr. Crusher had gone on to scan other crewmembers.

Arin just shook for head and looked down, ashamed.

"You have a lot of explaining to do, young lady," Picard said, voice firm. "Security, take her to the brig, then take yourselves to sickbay." One of the security guards was looking a little too banged-up for Picard's liking.

With a sigh, Captain Picard turned to Riker and shook his head. "I need some answers, Number One," he muttered, the strain of the encounter seeping out of him and leaving him drained.

"I don't think that will be too difficult to arrange," he answered, watching as Arin Greene submitted herself to being led off the bridge and to the brig. Arin looked completely submissive and ashamed of the whole situation and as if she was willing to explain herself sometime soon.

Picard sighed again. "I'll be in my ready room making a very interesting call to Starfleet Command." With that, he turned toward the room that would both take him away from the bustling recovery of the bridge and place him in an uncomfortable position—having to explain to Command what had just transpired. He didn't think they would be too pleased.


	14. Chapter 14

**_Chapter 14_**

Arin Greene stood in the brig, the blue forcefield before her blocking her from escape. She reached out hesitantly and touched the humming film just to test it. The shock in her hand at the contact made her pull back reflexively.

Arin sighed and turned to the small mirror that was a part of the brig's sparse accommodations. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was a mess, her eyes were red, and all color had fled from her cheeks. She looked a terror.

Arin didn't want to wallow in self-pity any longer, so she sat on the white bench, the cushioning making her feel almost comfortable. She drew her knees up to her chest and closed her eyes, thinking of all the chaos of the past few days. All the tied up emotions, all the conflict, the confusion…everything. Everything was swirling through her head all at once.

She heard the doors to the brig whoosh open, and she opened her eyes. Through the blue forcefield that stretched taut like a membrane over the octagonal opening, she saw a man in command red walk over to her. After another moment she noticed it was Captain Picard.

She groaned internally. Then she noticed another figure walk in behind him. The figure's long dark hair and maroon jumpsuit made Arin recognize immediately that it was Counselor Troi.

The two stood in front of her, silent. Arin waited for them to say something, but they didn't. It got to the point where she started to feel uncomfortable and she shifted her gaze to her gnawed fingernails.

"I think you know why we're here, Miss Greene." That was the captain's voice. _Oh, gods, here it comes. He wants an answer and I don't feel like it right now!_

At Arin's silence, Deanna stepped in. "Arin, I know you're uncomfortable right now, but this is not the time. We need an explanation."

Arin sighed and stood up. She paced around the tight room, then stopped. "I don't know how to begin," she said. But, contradicting her last sentence, she started speaking. "When I was twelve, I told you I was on a field trip to the outpost in Sector Z-6 for my Honors Exobiology class. Then, navigations got confused, the Romulans came, and so on…" Arin paused for a moment. "The Romulans kept me captive, and, especially being twelve, I was scared out of my wits. I just wanted to go home.

"The Romulans immediately separated me from the others. I'm not sure if they separated the others from each other, but all I know was I wasn't in contact with anyone but Romulans. I was terrified. I would disobey them and they would punish me, leaving me without food for days, keeping me locked in dark rooms, hurting me with their technology…anything and everything. They knew me to be a young member of the Federation, so they didn't interrogate me or force information out of me that I didn't have. That was the only pain they spared me. I went through all the stages of grief—denial, anger, then, finally, acceptance." Arin blinked and tossed a strand of dark hair out of her face.

"Soon I was taken aboard a transport and brought down to their home world, _ch'Rihan_. That's what they call Romulus. Seeing their home planet was quite exhilarating. I was seeing the Romulan capital! It was bustling and lively, like any city on Earth. Instead of being afraid, I became exited.

"I was given to the Romulan named Commander Taelar. I don't know why _I _was being given to someone. I hadn't even heard about what happened to the others from the transport. All I knew was I had to survive.

"Commander Taelar was kind to me. He treated me with civility, even though I was little more than a pet to him. Soon I started to feel at home. By the time I was fourteen I had forgotten all about life in the Federation. I became fluent in Rihannsu—Romulan—and grew to learn their culture and practices. This only seemed to please Commander Taelar even more.

"Soon, Taelar—being a soldier— was sent away on a mission. He had been on Romulus seeking to please the Praetor and gain a higher position, but his attempts had landed him nothing more than his command. He left the next day he was summoned and took me with as his servant. Aboard the warbird, Taelar taught me about life aboard a Romulan vessel. I started to understand the hierarchy and the actions of every position aboard the vessel. With time I was gaining my own ideas about what should and shouldn't be. Commander Taelar noticed this, and, instead of punishing me for sharing my ideas, he encouraged me. He then became comfortable enough to make me his spy. After I revealed his subcommander's whispered remarks about overthrowing Commander Taelar and becoming commander herself, I was praised by Taelar and hated by everyone else. But I didn't care about everyone else. All I cared about was the affection Taelar gave me. Being alone and away from anyone who cared for me, even Commander Taelar's affection became addicting. But it also led me to thoughts about my own parents.

"One day I had been brooding about, depressed and moping. Taelar, knowing my personality, had asked me what was wrong. I shook my head, but he insisted I tell him, as his servant. I looked him straight in the eye and told him I wanted to see my parents. I missed them and I wanted that life again. He looked shocked for a moment, then disappointed. Then, he smacked me across the face. Romulans being like Vulcans—much stronger than humans—his force made me bleed. But the pain in my face was nothing like the pain I would feel at his next words. 'Your parents are dead. Starfleet killed them. They died on a ground mission.' These words left me stunned. I asked him, 'How do you know?' He told me they had their ways, and my four years surrounded by Romulans made me believe him."

Arin stopped talking, anger and upset clouding her thoughts. The emotions flowed from Arin and to Deanna. Deanna breathed in sharply at the clarity of the feelings. These were clearer feelings than she had ever sensed from Arin before. Captain Picard gave Troi a side look, and Deanna looked back at him meaningfully. Picard decided to let Arin finish her story before he told her the truth.

"I hated Starfleet and everything to do with it from that moment on. My hatred grew so strong I vowed, in front of Taelar, to do whatever it took to seek revenge. His eyes lit up as I said this, and he leaned over and took me by the shoulders. He said he had been planning something for a while, something that would raise himself in the eyes of the Praetor. Something that would prove his loyalty. Something that I could help with.

"I was doubtful at first, but when I was told his plan would help me seek revenge on Starfleet, I was more than willing. Commander Taelar taught me everything I needed to know about what we were about to do. He also taught me how to hide my emotions, how to keep them from showing on my face and from getting in the way of actions. I became so good at this that I even knew how to keep my emotions so locked up I couldn't even feel them anymore. So, when the time came, I was ready.

"I was placed aboard one of their shuttlecraft, and fired at. They had promised me they wouldn't fire enough to truly hurt me, but I didn't see how they could avoid that. When the shuttlecraft and I had been fully beaten, Commander Taelar called me from the warbird. He told me that if I was serious about my revenge, I wouldn't let small cuts and bruises get in my way. The way he said this encouraged me, and I continued through the Neutral Zone and to the nearest Federation vessel.

"This vessel was a ship called the U.S.S _Prometheus_. I was told to appear before the ship as I did with this ship—a helpless runaway of the Romulan Star Empire. Being Starfleet officers, they brought me aboard and healed my wounds. They checked my shuttlecraft to make sure it had been damaged by Romulan weapons, and they questioned me and checked my records. I had been expecting all of this.

"As soon as my story had been confirmed, I put my plan into action. Nobody expected a small girl who had made a daring escape from Romulan hands to be a saboteur. I sabotaged the _Prometheus_, ran to the shuttlebay, stole a shuttle and flew away from the ship before anyone could catch me. I had set small detonators in key points of the _Prometheus_ and, by the time I had left the ship, I set them off. The ship was destroyed." Arin sighed and rubbed her head.

"Instead of feeling relieved, like I had just served justice, I felt unsatisfied, and partially terrified with myself. I had just killed hundreds of people. But my training kept my emotions repressed, and I hid my true feelings of horror from myself. At the designated time, Commander Taelar picked me up and brought me back aboard the warbird. I was treated like a queen. The crew respected what I had just done for them, and Commander Taelar was nearly delirious. He kept talking about how I had done so well and how I should be pleased with myself. How he would be recognized as the loyal citizen he was and would be treated to luxury on Romulus. He would be a legendary hero for the rest of time, and I would bask in his glory. I just needed to destroy _more _ships.

"Nearly a year later, when he thought the time was right, he set me off on a bigger, more 'honorable' mission. The Praetor had been concerned that the Federation was sending military aid and weapons to the planets lining the Neutral Zone, and that an attack was imminent. Taelar told me it was my job to be picked up by the _Enterprise_, gain information on the weapons, destroy the ship like I had done last time, and leave." Arin sat down on the bench in the cell and cradled her head in her hands. She took a deep breath, then continued.

"Everything was going according to plan. I had found my way to Main Engineering and placed detonators where I could, which was why I was late to your meeting, Counselor. I knew the closer to the warp core the explosions, the more damage would be inflicted." Arin looked ashamed at this confession. "I locked the doors to my quarters because I didn't want anyone to find the detonators that I had sneaked out of the shuttlecraft and hid in my quarters until I needed them. Everything was working out until that tricorder told me the 'weapons' were actually medical supplies. That's when everything came falling into place. You weren't sending military aid to the planets, but _medical _aid. That was when all my doubts, all my fears, all those horrible emotions after killing all those people smacked me hard. I hated myself for what I had done, and I couldn't continue. But, when the time came for Commander Taelar to pick me up, the deed was not done. That's when he uncloaked and fired at you. That's why he was acting so desperate, and why he told me that it 'wasn't supposed to get this far'. His plan was shattering before he was promoted to legendary hero."

Arin Greene stopped talking and turned away. "Are you satisfied now?" she asked them. "Now that you know _everything _about me?"

"Arin, there _is_ something you don't know." Arin turned at Picard's comment, looking him in the eye. "Your parents weren't killed on an away mission. They were killed by the Romulans."

Instead of being upset with Picard for sharing this shocking bit of news with her at this time, she felt respected. Like he wasn't going to hide the truth from her and treat her like a child or a criminal.

"Thank you," she said, quietly. "Thank you for telling me the truth."

"No, Arin," Picard said. "Thank _you _for being honest with us and for not going through with your revenge when you saw the truth of our mission."

Arin smiled a small smile at this praise. But, like any time a person realizes that everything they had done was in vain, and that the whole time they had actually been supporting the _real _enemy, Arin broke down. She cried until she fell asleep.

When she opened her eyes and looked up, Picard and Deanna had left the room. But another person stood before her, his familiar gray outfit and big brown eyes giving him away.

"Wesley…" she said. "I'm so sorry!" If she had any tears left, she would have cried again.

"Arin," Wesley said, and walked toward the forcefield. "I heard everything at the meeting."

Arin nodded. "I'm so ashamed of myself. I'm so sorry I…used you." The words were hard to say to him, but she needed to be honest. "You have every reason to be upset with me."

"I do," Wesley said. "You took advantage of my feelings, you led me on, and, in the end, you never cared about me, running off to do your own thing. I should be upset with you."

Arin's shoulders slumped at his brutally descriptive words.

"But, Arin, this is what Commander Taelar did to you. You've been through all of this pain. He took advantage of your need for affection, he led you on, and, in the end, he ran back to the Neutral Zone when things got tough, leaving you to face the consequences. I forgive you, Arin. I forgive you for the past five years, if that means anything coming from me."

At these words, Arin forgot why she hated Starfleet so bad. This was a person, her age, who had gone through the pain of having his father die in service. And here he was forgiving her for her crimes against the people he loved best, even for hurting him personally.

Wesley continued. "You can change, Arin. You can be the happy, loving person you were before. I know it. You've been through a lot, and I _know_ that if you can go through all that, you can be happy again."

Arin was touched by his words. "I don't know how you can forgive me, Wesley Crusher. Your words are more than I deserve. But, I thank you for your hope."

"Maybe that hope is contagious." With these words, Wesley Crusher gave her one last look—full of youth and optimism and hope—and left the brig.

Suddenly, Arin didn't feel so pitiful anymore.


	15. Epilogue

**_Epilogue_**

Picard walked from his ready room to the bridge, tugging his uniform top into place as he did so. His report to Starfleet Command over the whole Arin Greene incident was over, thankfully. He had told them about the renegade Romulan craft, and Command had agreed not to get too upset over the unauthorized entrance into Federation space. It was not worth starting a war, and Picard was more than pleased with that decision.

As Picard nodded acknowledgement to Riker as he rose from the command chair, allowing Picard to take his rightful place, Picard thought about Starfleet's plans for Arin Greene. They had decided the _Enterprise-D _would drop her off at Starbase 718 where she would be escorted to another craft and put under surveillance until they reached the juvenile rehabilitation colony where she would be staying and receiving special treatment in learning to overcome her difficult past. Picard thought this was just what the girl needed to become a stable member of the Federation again. He knew Federation rehabilitation colonies were nothing like the prisons and asylums of ancient times, and that the pooled efforts and talents of the numerous species that made up the United Federation of Planets would undoubtedly help Arin Greene recover from the psychological effects of her unfortunate past.

Arin Greene's relatives had been contacted and informed of the situation, but, apparently, not with much detail. Picard wasn't told what their reaction was, but he hoped it was not too devastating and that they would be willing to help in her recovery.

In addition, Picard had made sure the detonators that had been placed in Main Engineering by Arin had all been found and deactivated immediately.

Picard had also reported to Command that the medical supplies had been successfully delivered to the grateful Tehrazions, and, after the short amount of time it took to supply the colony, the _Enterprise-D _was already finishing up and getting ready to begin the trek to Starbase 718.

Picard crossed his legs in his command chair, making himself comfortable. Conflict had been avoided, medical supplies delivered, and an unfortunate Federation member returned to her rightful place. _Maybe Arin Greene can someday help the Federation better understand the Romulans_, Picard thought. _Maybe someday there will be no more fighting, no more miscommunications. _But the dreams for a better future floating through Captain Picard's head were, for now, only that: dreams. In the meantime, he had a starbase to get to.

"Ensign Crusher, lay in a course for Starbase 718. Prepare to engage warp six." Picard could almost feel the developing hum of the warp core beneath his feet, the building of the matter and antimatter to an amount that would, at his command, collide and propel the _Enterprise_ in an explosion of almost incomprehensible proportions to the starbase.

Picard let the feel of anticipation and excitement grow—the anticipation and excitement of the curiosities and anomalies that would fuel the inner workings of the _Enterprise _crew for days to come. They had come to explore, and explore they would.

Picard raised his hand from the armrest, and, with the bridge crew's tangible peak of expectation and the patient tilt of Wesley Crusher's head, waiting for the command, Picard broke the anticipatory silence.

"Engage!"

* * *

_That's the end! I hope you liked my story! I know I sure enjoyed writing it! I would like to make a special thank you InTheLight-Hija and GondorianRose5647 for being there with me through the whole story and giving me feedback with each chapter. Thank you both so much! I wish I could express how happy you both made me! _

_If you liked this story, you might like my other _Star Trek _stories, too, so check out my profile!_

_Please review, everyone, and tell me what you thought of _Sabotage_! Again, thank you for reading! :)_


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